


Here's to the Night

by Whedonist



Series: Why Don't You and I [3]
Category: Nikki & Nora
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whedonist/pseuds/Whedonist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This picks up about 8 months after Reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Impermanence

**Fandom:** Nikki  & Nora  


**Pairing:** Nikki  & Nora  


**Rating:** PG-13 to R (depends on the chapter)  


**Disclaimer:** The characters contained herein are not my intellectual property. They belong to Nancylee Myatt and other people that I don’t associate with. If they were mine, Nikki  & Nora would still be in production and we would all be very very happy. This is for fun…read - me mucking about for some entertainment in another person’s sandbox, not for money. While this has been beta’d, we’re not perfect and I accept full responsibility for all mistakes.  


**A/N:** This picks up about 8 months after Reasons. With only the first chapter of this being completed, updates are going to be coming a little less frequently than a schedule I would like to maintain. My hope is that posting this will spur the muse and I will be able to hammer out the other 8 chapters. This chapter is split into two parts and you will be reading that next week as hopefully it will buy me a little time to at least complete chapter 2. Thank you to my long suffering beta, the poor bastard has to put up with my awful spelling, bless you Dirk! Lastly, read and enjoy.  


**A/N – Take 2** \- This wasn’t supposed to coincide with the IDF, but the cosmos aligned and here it is. Sadly enough, I would also love to join in on the fun at FemslashCon, but I’ve got my partner’s parents in today for a b-day celebration. I’m sorry I’m missing out on all the fun, but hope this makes up for it just a teensy bit.  
  


Ch. 1A – Impermanence

  


The soft lights reflect off the crystal dinner wear as I glance around the reception hall. The place is littered with tables covered in thick cotton while people in suits and gowns chat amiably with each other. It isn’t so much that I dislike the charity functions and the one or two foundation boards that I sit on…  


It’s just…a hand ghosts over mine and then rests firmly on top, linking our fingers together. I blink, stepping away from the petulant child in my head and look over at the smiling face of my partner for the evening.  


Jill’s head is cocked to the side and her eyebrow is raised in question. I waive her off and she leans into me, giggling, “Lemme guess, sitting around with a bunch of holier than thou white folks who wouldn’t know the meaning of the word suffering if it came up and beat them with a rubber hose not really cutting it for you tonight gorgeous?”  


“In so many words, that’s about it,” I admit.  


“Nikki,” she says, shaking her head, “I think you’ve been around Nora way too long.”  


I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at her and say instead, “Haven’t been around her nearly long enough. And it’s more than that I suppose. These things are a necessity for charities to get the funding they need; I just would not like to be a cog in the wheel of the hypocrisy that dominates the New Orleans Elite.”  


“Ah,” the model says patting my arm, “But the thing of it is, is that you are. It was what you were born in to, no? And hon, it’s not just the elite here in your city; it’s pretty much every-fucking-where.”  


“Touché, on both accounts.” I smile at her and make a note to thank Ann for insisting that the two of us attend the dinner of the New Orleans Police and Justice Foundation together. I can at least be thankful that it is an important dinner for the department as the proceeds tonight are going to be going towards a few building renovations and some new equipment for our men and women in uniform.  


“Nicolette, be a dear and pass me the pepper and Tabasco sauce you seem to be keepin’ all to yourself,” my father says, smiling at me, his hand outstretched.  


My lips purse and I contemplate handing him the requested items. The last check up with his doctor was less than promising.  


“Ms. Flemming, if you would be so kind as to,” he says pointing a finger at the requested items.  


Jill doesn’t think twice, picking up the Tabasco and pepper shaker to pass to my father as she says, “It’s Missus actually. I’m married.”  


His face registers surprise as he turns a little pink and I smirk. “Oh, well,” he stammers looking at her right hand that’s passing him his heartburn in a bottle, “I see that. Tell me who is the lucky man?”  


A grin spreads over my friend’s lips in a way that I’ve come to adore on one hand, yet pity the person on the receiving end. “My Ann would be none too pleased by the intimation that she’s endowed with certain external organs, Mr. Beaumont. She,” Ann purrs emphasizing the she, “we’ve been married eight years this past May.” The model beams and continues on while my father does his best not to swallow his tongue, “We were married in Denmark while I was on a shoot.”  


“Oh,” my dad stammers again, “How wonderful.” He dabs at his lips with his napkin and I grin around the sip of water from my glass. While he’s been nothing but supportive of me and my choices, I do think that this is his first time coming face to face with another woman with the same proclivities.  


I look him over and confirm what I thought all along. I really would like to tell him that my love of the female form isn’t a phase that I haven’t grown out of nor will I.  


Jill looks to me and I nod answering the unasked question of my “out” status. She breathes a sigh of relief and my father asks, “How exactly does that work if you don’t mind me asking?”  


“Does what work?” she asks.  


“Well, division of assets, it’s not legal in the U.S. and are you going to have children?” he answers bluntly.  


She smiles and says, “Well there’s a lot that can be done about assets, we’ve got legal paperwork out the wazoo and enough backups to make the Vogons look like they don’t know the meaning of the word ‘paperwork’.”  


“Vogons?” I ask.  


Rolling her eyes she looks between me and my father, “Do neither of you read?”  


“Uh, depends, what’s a Vogon?” ‘Cause really, I have no idea and by a quick glance in my father’s direction I can see he’s just as confused.  


“Aliens,” Jill supplies. “Just think of them as paper-pushing, triplicate-loving aliens.”  


I nod and shrug. Okay.  


“As for kids,” Jill drawls, playing with her wedding ring as it spins around her finger, “Ann and I have crazy jobs and an even crazier schedule.”  


My head tilts to the side wondering why this is the first I’m hearing about. The near whistful look in her eye…well, it almost looks like she does want them.  


“Besides,” she winks at me, “I’m not a kid person. Ann, maybe, I’ve never seen her interact with them, but I know I’m not.”  


Or maybe not. Making a note to bring this up later, I smile at her.  


“Ah,” my daddy nods. “That does put a damper in things. I personally would have had a dozen more, if Nikki’s mother would have lived a bit longer.”  


“Please,” I laugh and smack my daddy’s arm, “you could barely handle me.”  


“My dear after you, a dozen children would have seemed like a holiday,” he laughs and grins at me, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his stomach.  


“Was Nikki really that bad?” Jill leans forward resting her head on the laced fingers of her hands.  


“She was,” my daddy says, “a most troublesome child that demanded everything her heart desired.”  


“And I made damn sure I got it too.” Smirking, I wink at my friend and we all laugh.  


Tonight is a nice change of pace. Although for the past few weeks, things have been quiet. The fact that Nora and I have turned our usually oddball hour job into a regular nine to five at least for the last week or so hasn’t escaped my attention. I will assume that won’t last, but I do intend to enjoy every minute of it while I can.  
  


* * *

Mulate’s is bright and the crowd of diners thick as Ann and I look at the entree’s that were just put on our table. She scowls towards my crawfish etouffee and unable to resist I grab my fork, make sure that I grab a chunky piece of mudbug and devour it, smacking my lips in earnest as I chew. Ann’s face scrunches more and she looks down at her own plate, grilled catfish, veggies and a twice-baked potato.  


Truthfully, she hates the things, but she’ll also let me eat them unlike Nikki who refuses to even look at me until I’ve brushed my teeth after eating them. Smiling, I take a sip of my water and keep the grin. It’s actually nice just the two of us hanging out. We get to catch up without Nikki or Jill to add their commentary.  


“So tell me again, why you eat those things?” Ann asks, shaking me from my thoughts.  


“Uh, they’re good,” I reply around a mouthful of the etouffee.  


Her nose scrunches and she shakes her head. “To each their own, I guess, but those things are just gross.”  


“Why is that? Nikki can’t stand to watch me eat them. They really are good.” I pick up another forkful and eat.  


“Uhm…” her mouth screws to the side and she huffs, “I don’t know, but they always just seemed icky.”  


“Icky?”  


“Yeah, icky as in gross, disgusting, vile or worthy of my ick reflex.” Ann waggles her eyebrows then goes for a subject change, “Do you think it was a good idea sending Jill with Nikki?”  


“Depends,” I say setting my fork down, “on if they can go shopping during or after.”  


Ann snorts, merriment dancing in her eyes. “So you think we’re crazy?”  


“For?” I wonder.  


“Well, Nor, look at us,” she answers and idly I wonder if she’s being vague on purpose or if I’m missing something. Before I can ask, she says, “I mean we got together when, ninety-two, and it’s two-thousand-two, I’m with the F.B.I. and you’re with S.C.U. I just think that it’s weird.”  


My eyebrow arches of it’s own accord as I feel the need to intake something a little stronger than the water I’ve been drinking, I reach for the Jack and Coke that’s been sitting next to it. “You’ve been thinking about this?” I ask around an ice cube.  


“No…well, yeah, I guess. When we were together…”  


“For less than a year,” I remind her.  


“Yeah, but we were good together,” she says thoughtfully.  


“True, would have never lasted though.” I smirk at her.  


“No?”  


I look her over, the new hair cut that’s shorter than I’m used to seeing on her, but the shoulder length cut and layers look good on her, her eyes are still kind and mischievous all at the same time and still beautiful after our time in our jobs. Staying with her, I can be honest and say I don’t know how it would have happened. Ann’s never been one to shy away from who she is and it’s something that I’ve always respected and to an extent yearned for…  


Unthinking, I reach out for her hand and lace our fingers together. “No,” I say definitively, “we’re too much alike for one, but the spots where we’re different, it would have driven us apart.”  


She squeezes my hand and nods. “I guess.”  


“Plus,” I say, my tone light, “There’s that whole cliché of falling for your high school best friend that you went and did.”  


Her face brightens and she looks down at the simple ring and band set on her left hand. “There was that.” I watch as her thumb plays with the underside of the band and she says, “Did I ever apologize for that?”  


“No need. I think it worked out for the best.” I wink at her and she snorts.  


“Yeah, who’d a thunk? You pretty much shacked up with a politician’s daughter and really Nora, the look is good for you.”  


“What look?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.  


“You happy…wait you are happy, right?” Her face darkens at the thought.  


“Really happy actually. Work’s good and of course there are the bad days and the good days, but Nikki makes both better. I mean we have our problems, the obvious and the not, but we work through most of them,” I answer.  


“Yeah, that working through shit’s a pain in the ass. Jill always wants to talk. The crazy thing is that I actually like it. Most anyone else and I’m telling them to stuff it.” I watch my friend for a moment get lost in her own thoughts before she asks, “What about you and Nikki? At the very least you two could move in together. If I’m not mistaken, Jill said that Nikki told her she had broached the subject?”  


“Why did we introduce them?” I groan.  


“I think our logic went something like if we give Jill a playmate she would be less bothersome and allow the adults to talk,” Ann deadpans.  


Rubbing my forehead, I reach for my drink and silently curse the three most important women in my life. Figures that the one sore subject between Nikki and me, Ann had to pick it. “Yeah,” I snip, “she did, but…”  


“But what? She loves you, you love her. What’s to ‘but’ about Nor?” Ann cuts me off.  


I purse my lips at her interruption then say, “BUT, moving in together takes our complicated situation and makes it more complicated. I don’t think I can handle that,” I try to explain.  


“Hmm,” my ex hums and turns her attention back to her food.  


I can’t help but think I’ve stepped in something here. I just wish I knew what it was. Shaking it off, I go back to my food as well, trying to salvage the evening.  


The truth is, is that I would like to move in with Nikki. I think a year together day in and out is long enough to avoid the U-Haul cliché. Also, the nights she’s by my side I’m better rested and apparently in a better mood.  


Dan, in his ignorance, made a point of it during a case he helped with. We were sitting outside a bar waiting for our suspect to come out and he says, “You mind telling me why you’ve been in a foul mood all damn week?” I just stared out the car windshield and tried my best to ignore him, but he was persistent and said, “If I didn’t know any better, and really I don’t, I would say you aren’t getting enough action.”  


It was then my eyes slid to him as he leered and his tongue snaked out, licking his lips. “My offer from before still stands Nora.” He winked at me then and for him annoying me, I snorted and flipped him off.  


His comments had hit a little too close. I hadn’t seen Nikki all week, I hadn’t slept and he was right, it had been nearly two weeks since Nikki and I shared a bed or intimate moment. To top it all off, I was doubly fed up with fielding phone calls from my mom and Dan’s persistent advances.  


I would like to say or at least think that he is someone I could fall into bed with, but despite the rumors, that I think he started, and good work chemistry, I’m gay. I came to that personal revelation sometime ago. Dan’s also confused our platonic chemistry and his libido with a notion of “us” turning into something more.  


Ann had once asked why my ‘super gay ass’ had never had a girlfriend before. My answer to that was Catholic guilt and the need to repress. I’m just buried so deep in the proverbial closet I can’t see the light peeking from under the door.  


I allow myself a brief moment of brutal honesty and recognize the fear and abject terror the idea of coming out brings. And right before the abyss swallows me up I shove the idea back inside and go back to my food.  


It really isn’t a reason to ruin a perfectly good supper.  
  


* * *

Looking around the club tonight, I’m surprised that it’s not more lively. For a Saturday night, Happy Phantoms is pretty subdued. The DJ they’ve hired for tonight is either the cause, playing slower, more intimate music, or their reacting to said vibe and just going with the flow. The patrons pock mark the space and a few couples, gay and straight, dance in front of the stage. 

“Nik,” Nora’s soft voice causes me to turn my attention to her. 

“Hmm?” I answer, sipping at the single malt Casey has taken to making sure I have unless requested otherwise. I will say one thing for Nora’s ex’s, she seems to know how to pick women. 

The fact that I’m actually friends or at least friendly acquaintances with the two, surprises even me at times. But here I am so many months later and I can’t help but love Ann and Jill to pieces. Casey, I’m slowly coming to see that she’s a girl you would like in your corner. That and her friends that Nora and I have been out with once were enough to scare me, if I was easily scared. 

Nora said that Casey had grown up with two of the guys, skinheads of the non-Nazi variety. One of them, Bill, seemed interested in taking the time to explain to me the difference between the Nazi kind and the non-Nazi kind. How did he say it? 

“Dance?” Nora asks. 

My lips press together as I answer her question with a question, “Baby, what did Bill say about skinheads?” 

Her mouth turns up at the corner and her eyebrow rises to match as she probes, “That’s what you’re thinking about?” 

“Well,” I answer looking at Ann, Jill and Nora, “I was actually trying to tell Darius about it and it seems to have slipped my memory.” Leaning into her, I press my hand to the inside of her thigh and give it a squeeze. “Since I know you pay attention to all the things that I seem to miss, I was hoping you could enlighten me once again.” 

“Uh-huh,” she says, the muscles underneath my hand giving her away. “If you must know,” she sighs, “the lecture we were given went something like this, apparently the whole skinhead thing came to be because Jamaicans were immigrating to England.” 

“Eh?” Ann grunts in the most unintelligent fashion. 

Nora smirks and clarifies, “As it was relayed to me, it was the combination of the Jamaican culture merging with the British working class youth that spawned the whole skinhead movement.” My lover shrugs and continues, “It wasn’t until the early eighties that the white supremacist movement infiltrated the subculture and used the look as a shock troop uniform.” 

The look of disbelief on the face of Jill and Ann I know mirror my own, but Nora presses on, “Casey’s friends from Chicago have moved down here. A few of them are skinheads. Nikki and I went out with Casey a bit ago and got an interesting history lesson on punk subculture.” 

“Who knew,” Jill shrugs. “Although, that explains somethings I saw a while back.” 

“And what, Mrs. Flemming did you see?” I ask. 

She sips her water and says, “A black skinhead walking with a small group of punk rock type kids in Richmond. I was a little shocked, but just shrugged it off.” 

“So,” Ann asks, “how does the non-Nazi group feel about the Nazi faction?” 

“Bill, one of Casey’s friends, said that there are certain factions of the skinhead movement. Interesting stuff actually, there’s the traditional skinheads, who don’t care one way or the other, the non-Nazi one’s who are, and I quote, ‘almost militant in their non-racist beliefs’ and then the Nazi skinheads are usually referred to as boneheads.” 

“Hmmm,” I and the two other women at the table say at the same time. 

“Sugga, you have an endless storage space for trivial bits of information,” I purr in her ear. Taking my actions one-step further, I nip her earlobe and then down to her neck, sucking on her pulse point for a moment before laving the area with my tongue. 

I hear the groan, just low enough not to be heard by anyone else, but definitely loud enough for me to discern amongst the din of the bar. 

“Nikki, if you don’t stop that, I will call the local authorities,” Ann teases from across the table. 

I turn my attention to my friend just in time to see Nora’s middle finger retract back into her fist as she lays it on the table. 

“Ann,” I say, grinning, “We are the local authorities.” 

“We aren’t going to start a small pissing contest ladies,” Jill warns. “That’s it! All of you up,” she commands motioning us out of the booth. “I avoid the party scene on shoots. I will not avoid it with my beautiful wife and our friends on vacation. Time to boogey.” 

“Baby,” Ann says, “no one says ‘boogey’ anymore.” 

Jill waves her hand dismissively as we pair off and says, “I’m bringing it back.” 

I take Nora’s hand and we move to the middle of the dance floor as a folksy acoustic number kicks off. Jill offers me a small wave before hands lose themselves in the back pockets of her wife’s jeans. I nod at her and lace my fingers behind Nora’s neck, drawing her closer. 

The song, while not sensual in nature is soft and romantic. Her arms lock around my waist as we swing our hips in time with the melody, Nora rests her head on my shoulder and breathes gently into my neck. The warmth causes me to flush and I slip my leg between hers, starting a slow grind. 

She moans into my shoulder, nipping my exposed skin. My hands draw random patterns over her thin blouse and we dance letting one song blur to another. 

The world falls away around us as it has the tendency to do when I have her in my arms. I hold her close and breathe her in. In our time together, she has been my pillar. 

And my pillar, much to my annoyance, has been avoiding the subject that I broached a few weeks ago. I want us to live together. I can’t stand sleeping without her next to me and the idea that I’m well rested after a night alone is laughable at best. The most aggravating thing of this all is that I know she feels the same. 

She doesn’t need to say anything, she says it all when she comes to pick me up in the morning and she’s grumpier than a bear with a thorn in its paw. Entirely too cute for words, but snappy and more than irritable. 

The DJ queues up the next song that has a heavier dance beat and Nora is the first to respond. Her arms slips free of my waist and she spins me around. I catch her eyes and they are lit up with amusement and mischief. Unable to prevent my smile, I stop her next move with a hand on her shoulder and spin her around, pressing my front to her back. 

I feel the shiver course through her as my hands lay flat against her stomach. I sway us to the beat and take possession of my lover in ways that I know she’s never allowed anyone to. 

Thoughts of our living arrangements go to the back of my mind as I feel her hand reach around, pull my head down and her lips attach themselves to mine.  


* * *

  


I wake up before my cell phone starts vibrating across the end table. Looking at the display, I groan and realize that the stupid thing won’t go off for another thirty minutes. I debate the pros and cons of getting up a half hour early and decide that the warm naked body flush against my backside is reason enough to stay in bed for at least the additional time. I keep the cell phone in my hand, just in case I fall back asleep and as gently as possible, turn myself around so that Nikki and I are front to front. 

Unconsciously my girlfriend makes the adjustment and seeks out the arm I was slithering under her neck. Her right arm pulls me to her and she snuggles in. I kiss the top of her head and hold her. 

We’re coming up on our year anniversary and I wonder if she’ll remember. I’m not sure what to expect. Ann and I didn’t make it a year, almost, but not quite. If I count from the first day we met, then we did, but we both know that’s not fair to Tommy. 

And wow I hadn’t thought of him in forever. Asshole. I know I broke it off quickly, never giving him any warning, but the reaction to the news was inexcusable. 

But are there any amicable break ups? 

Ann, well, let’s be honest, the first few months after were stilted conversations and awkward silences. It took Jill butting her nose in where it didn’t belong to get us to start talking again. I also know Jill regretted it once she did…until the three of us found some common ground 

Relationships are truly a pain in the ass. 

To emphasize my point, the woman in my arms palms my left breast and I bite my lip to keep the groan from waking her up. It’s not that I don’t want to move in with her, I just don’t know how we’re going to be able to. If Dan found out that we were together, I could say goodbye to working with her, if my family found… 

Thankfully, the phone in my hand buzzes and I’m excused from early morning ruminations about the state of my amazingly complicated love life. Gently, I slip from the bed and use my pillow to replace my body that Nikki gladly cuddles up with. I watch her a moment more admiring her sleeping form and wonder why in the hell I had to fall for my partner! 

That thought persists as I shower, make some coffee and put together a small tray of breakfast type items for my girl. Fully dressed, gun holstered and badge on display I slip inside the bedroom and set the tray down on the end table on Nikki’s side of the bed. She stirs as I sit down and gather her hand in mind, kissing the knuckles. 

“Hmm, whatimeizit?” she asks muzziley. 

“Early,” I say gathering her in my arms to kiss the corner of her mouth. “Since you have the day off, I figured breakfast in bed would be nice. I do need to go though.” 

“M’kay,” she says burrowing into my lap. 

Sighing, I slip from under her and she grunts in annoyance. 

As I make my way to the door, I hear, “Be safe Nora. Call me later and I love you.” 

“Love you to,” I shoot over my shoulder, closing the door to the front of the apartment and outside to June Lee. The drive is shorter than usual and I spend the entire ten minutes dreading the paperwork I have waiting for me at my desk. Because not only do I have my reports to do, I lost a bet to my lover and have agreed to do hers as well. I roll my eyes and step out of my car cursing my love and the insanely muggy August weather. 

Half way to the doors of the station, I hear my name being called. I look over my shoulder and see my brother, Bobby, jog up to greet me. Smiling, I wrap him in a brief hug and give him a once over. It’s been a few weeks since I saw him last and the suckiness of that isn’t lost on me. He’s the only one I’m remotely close to in our family. 

“Nora,” he says, grinning at me. 

The tone and the look cause my eyes to narrow and my hands go to my hips. “What’s up, Bobby?” 

“Hey you remember Neil Diabisi?” he asks as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. Whatever this is, it can’t be good. 

“Yeah, that goof you graduated the academy with a few years back. He’s working out of the Third Ward if I’m not mistaken, foot patrol,” I rattle off the facts that I remember. 

“That would be him. Well, see,” my brother says, rubbing the back of his neck, “We were supposed to go on this double date, but his date can’t go and my date doesn’t want to go alone. So I was wondering if you would like to go with us tonight?” 

My mouth drops open and then my face sours, I feel my brow crinkling and the thin line my lips become show my displeasure. “One,” I spit, “No, ‘cause goin’ on a date with my brother – eww to the weird; two, no, ‘cause I’ve got friends in town; three, no, ‘cause did it ever occur to you that I might be seeing someone?” 

“I…no, not really…” he trails off and I wonder what the ‘no, not really’ was to. 

“Doesn’t she have another friend that she can torture?” I ask. 

“Uh, I…” he trails off. 

“Lemme guess, you didn’t even ask?” I mop my face with my hands and wonder how he could be so smart and so dumb all at the same time. It’s fucking infuriating. 

“I can call and ask.” He goes to leave and turns back looking me over. “Nora, I know…well, if you are seeing someone you should tell mama, it’d do her a world of good.” 

I shoot him my best annoyed look and he turns to skitter off around the corner. Like I need the headache and heartache that would cause. 

No thanks. 

I stomp towards the building and head in the entrance for officers, signing in along the way and up the three flights of stairs to my desk. As I hit the third floor landing, my phone rings and I answer, “Delaney.” 

“Nor,” Bobby’s voice boarders on whiny with an edge of pissed off. “Look, I…just about earlier, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed you would be available.” 

“Bobby, really it’s not necessary,” I try to let him off the hook. 

“No, it is, but the thing of it is, sis, is that mama said she hasn’t heard hide nor hair from you going on three weeks. She worries. And I’m just a tad irked with the self righteous B.S. you’ve been pulling.” He pauses for a breath and steamrolls over my pleasant morning, well it was pleasant until I left home, “And ya know, it’d be one thing if it was only now and again, but Nor you just about cut all of us out of your life over the past few years, more so in the past year. We’re family Nora not the damn burden that you seem to want to treat us as.” 

Before I have a chance to respond, he disconnects and leaves me no room to justify myself. Not like I can, but a lie to cover it up couldn’t hurt. I sit down at my desk, slumping in the chair. Reaching for the monitor screen, I see Dan’s door open and four people pile out. Two I don’t know, but the other two are my ex partner-turned-boss and the other is my ex-lover-turned-federal agent. All four smile at me and surround my desk. 

Ann shoots me what could only be construed as an apologetic glance while Dan beams at me and says, “Nora, I’d like you to meet John Mallone, director of Special Investigations of the F.B.I., Ann you know and this is Megan Diea of the A.T.F., they’re in town working on an investigation and I was tasked with finding their liaison. You’ve been asked for personally to be the representative of the N.O.P.D.” 

I plaster on a fake smile and send glares over at Ann who shrinks under my stare as I shake hands with the two new people. 

And Goddamnit! 

It was supposed to be a quiet day around here.


	2. Interruption

Interruption

The bullpen of S.C.U is a bustling nightmare when I step inside. Detectives and uniforms are darting about and I know that the calm of last week has been swept away. The cause of the new current can only be one of a handful of things. 

One, there have been multiple crimes of intriguing circumstance in the last sixteen hours. 

Two, all hell’s broke loose and the day of judgment those religious types are always blathering on about it has finally decided to tuck in to my beloved city. 

Or… 

Three, whatever’s responsible for the call I received from my very annoyed partner has also spurred our department into its own special tizzy and the fine folks I work with are caught in the storm. 

This lady’s bettin’ the house on option three. It’s the only thing it could be. 

I swing by Georgia’s desk, wanting to talk to her, but as I approach, I catch the snippets of conversation she is having with the individual on the other end of the handset that’s pinched between her shoulder and ear. The tone of the conversation isn’t pleasant and I really don’t want to interrupt. 

I change course and hit up Detective Benny Armstrong instead. He always knows what’s going on when I need to be caught up. I catch his eye and his face lights up. I smile back and offer a little wave. 

In his mid-thirties, Benny has the body of a runner, lean long muscle with a solid chin and square jaw. Kind blue eyes and a baldhead that I think is shaven daily. The only thing that doesn’t fall in line with the image he tries to project is the tattoo on the side of his neck, below his ear and near where the hairline would start. A spider is inked and outlined on his skin. 

The one time I asked him about it, he shrugged it off and said something about misspent youth and his hometown. I would have inquired further, but Nora steered me away from it. Later she said that no one really knows except maybe his partner, Dominic Barrett. 

Even that bit of mystery doesn’t detract from the man’s heart. He’s a sweetheart and a damn fine cop. I’m going to exploit those traits today. 

“Heya, sugga,” I greet him and perch myself on the edge of his desk. He rolls back to accommodate me and looks up into my face as I speak. 

“Beaumont, ain’t it your day off?” he asks, biting on his lower lip. 

“Was. Nora called me in, but I can’t find her,” I screw my mouth to the side and feign confusion. “Would you be a dear and tell me what bear stirred the bee’s nest and where I can find my partner?” 

Pressing his lips together, I watch as he contemplates my questions. I just know what this is going to come to and I’m not sure how many times I can say no to his offer for friendly drinks and maybe dinner. 

“Depends,” he drawls in a way that accentuates his deep gravelly voice that, while I’ll never tell Nora, I actually find quite sexy, “Are you finally going to let me take you out for drinks if I answer your questions?” 

“Maybe,” I tease swinging my left leg trying to string him along. 

His face breaks and he barks out deep, infectious laughter. I smile at him while he gets himself under control and he wipes a tear that’s leaked from the corner from his eye. “Nikki, you’re so full of it, but I’m gonna tell you anyway ‘cause your partner is a doll and she sorta scares me when she stalks around here like looking at her wrong could get your ass shot.” He props his left foot on his desk and says, “We’ve got visitors, F.B.I. and A.T.F. and you’re partner was picked to babysit them. We are currently the errand bitches to the task force.” He waves his arm about and emphasizing the chaos swirling around us, 

“Hence the mess you’ve walked into on your off day. And since she’s your partner, it means you are also responsible for this insanity!” 

That’s kinda what I was thinking myself. I really wish Dan would have given us a heads up. Even an hour would have been better than the annoyed phone call that I got from my partner. 

I sigh, nod and look around again, most of the detectives have their noses buried in files or their computer screens which mean research. The uniforms are zipping around dropping off files, folders and sometimes full boxes of stuff left and right. 

“Yo!” Dominic calls out from across the room. He shoots me a small smile and then crosses the room to take up residence on the other side of his partner’s desk. “What brings you by Nik?” 

“Information gathering.” I smile at him and he nods as his hands fold across his chest. 

“Nice. Well, I’d love to let you chat my partner up, but we need to jam. Caught a floater and Harney wants us on it.” He kicks his partner’s leg and shoots up snatching the car keys from his side of the desk. 

Effecting a long suffering sigh, Benny stands and says, “Look, you think about the drinks, hell bring Nora along.” He grins at me and then jogs after the retreating back of his partner. 

Sitting there, I wonder if I should read more into it than just a simple invitation for drinks. He couldn’t possibly… 

Nah, Benny wasn’t the type to hint, he has less subtlety than a bull in a china shop. 

I hop from my seat and swing by our desks to check on any calls that I may have missed. Finding nothing, I pull my phone from my pocket and hit one to dial Nora’s cell. 

It takes a few rings, but when she picks up her voice is tight, “Delaney.” 

“It’s me. Where are you?” 

“Third floor conference room number three,” she snips and ends the call. 

Well this should be interesting. 

I drop my phone back in my pocket and am about ready to head in my lover’s direction when Dan steps into the bull pen and gives me a once over. “You have today off,” he states and strides up next to me. 

“Did,” I say, “Nora called and said that we have to play nice with a few federal agencies. So here I am.” 

“Uh, Nikki, don’t take this the wrong way, but you aren’t on the case.” His hands get stuffed in his trouser pockets and I feel a very undignified look spread over my face. 

My eyes dart around the room causing me to decide on a better way to handle this. I grab his shirtsleeve and pull him towards his office. Once inside I spin him around and demand, “Just what in the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

He sighs, a long-suffering sort of sound that just pisses me off more and says, “Nikki, Nora was requested specifically. It’s a solo gig. You’ll have a temporary reassignment with a new partner.” 

My jaw drops. My head spins. The heat in my face tells me that I’m flushed and it in no way, shape or form resembles the cute blush that rises when Nora catches me doing something she thinks is cute and I find embarrassing. 

“Like hell,” I spit. 

“Well, detective,” he annunciates my title to emphasize his point, “you have a choice, I chain you to your desk for the duration of Nora’s assignment or you take a new partner for a little while.” 

I huff and roll my eyes. Jerk. 

I don’t bother responding as I spin on my heel and yank open the door. I’m about to storm out when he says gently, “Nikki, take the reassignment. You hate being at your desk more than Nora hates having to see the doctor.” 

“We’ll see,” is all I say as I start off in the direction of my lover. 

This is… 

It’s unacceptable.  


* * *

  


I pinch the bridge of my nose and pray for the patience to not haul off and strangle Ann’s boss. Since he came into the conference room, he’s been alternating between asking questions and answering them himself non-stop. We have a task force meeting in ten minutes and I haven’t had a chance to ask a damn thing. 

A cell phone chirps and John has it to his ear before the beginning of the second ring, “Malone,” he answers. “On assignment, New Orleans, what’s wrong?” He jams his finger in his free ear and presses the phone closer to his other. “No, if they had listened to the recommendation, we wouldn’t be in this situation…so, I’m expected to drop everything and come clean up? I hardly think that’s going to solve anything.” 

He snorts in that way that just conveys his annoyance and then spits, “Colin, I appreciate that, but you and I both know that neither of them are interested in listening to reason. They are after blood, period…We should listen to Kay, if they want to…” he stops and looks at the three of us in the room and somewhere in the second that he looks at us comes to a conclusion, “Stop. Look, give me a few and I’ll come up. It’s the last time Colin. I can’t…this isn’t going to end well and I have enough blood on my hands. I don’t need anymore and that’s exactly where this is headed. Death and destruction.” 

He spins away from us and hunches his shoulders, causing his shoulder holster to bunch. For the first time, I can clearly see that it holds two side arms, one on the left and one on the right. I had thought the left side was clips, but taking the time to study him, I see the row of four spare magazines are clipped to the small of his back. 

Is this guy waiting for a shoot out or just overly prepared? I’m about to ask Ann when he stops talking and the phone goes back to his pocket. He spins around to us, lips tight and jaw clenched. 

He swallows once and says, “It seems I’m being called away. Ann,” he directs his eyes, a storm of anger and defeat, to my friend, “I know this isn’t your normal responsibility on the team, but you taking point here would be appreciated.” 

I look over at Ann and I can’t read her face. Something’s brewing behind her usually expressive features, but it’s a mask now as she nods at her boss and says, “Say no more. I’ll take care of it.” 

He tips his chin and then goes back to addressing the group, “I’ll address the task force first, Megan and then turn the reins over to Ann. Is there anything that you want to cover in the initial gathering?” 

Megan Diea, the A.T.F. agent assigned as lead for her agency shakes her head. The girl is on the smaller side, five-foot-two maybe, with layered blonde hair and a tailored suit. She looks like she should be a lawyer not a federal agent. “We stick to what we know, dole out the assignments and we’ll be fine.” 

He nods and gather’s his folder to place on the podium when officers and agents begin filing in. “Nora, come here a second,” he crooks a finger at me and I rise from my position behind the table and follow. He pulls us to the side of the room and says, “I just wanted to apologize before I leave. Ann’s spoken very highly of you and I was looking forward to see if the legend lived up to the actual person.” 

Uh, what? 

I raise an eyebrow in question. This isn’t what I was expecting from a department head. 

“When I come back to town, I expect you to join Ann and I for dinner. Maybe I can get the rest of my people together and we can enjoy a decent meal in your city.” 

“I, uh, sure,” is all I can manage. 

“Good.” A genuine smile makes its way across his face and he squeezes my shoulder in that way that’s supposed to reflect camaraderie. It isn’t something I usually take to, but his actions and words are sincere that much is obvious. “Now, let’s kick this off and then I can get up to D.C.” 

He marches away from me and I’m left standing there trying to figure out what his deal is. I mean looks wise he doesn’t come off as a the usual federal agent, at least none that I’ve come across. His dark brown hair is lightly threaded with silver, a strong rounded jaw line, deep brown eyes and smooth shaven face are all pretty standard, but watching him move, he moves like a cop, he acts more like one too. It’s the clothes too that give him away. He’s not coifed in a suit, but instead, his feet are covered in a pair of boots, black slacks and a grey polo shirt are his attire. The arms of the polo shirt strain against his very muscular arms and his body type is compact at best, he’s as tall as Nikki. 

As the rest of the agents file in, I go back to my seat and Ann looks at me curiously. I shrug and point to her boss. She just nods and folds her arms across her chest as John begins to speak, “Good Morning, ladies and gentleman, for those of you that don’t know me, I’m John Malone, director of the Special Investigations Unit in the F.B.I., behind me are the other agents in charge of this joint endeavor.” He turns to us and points as he says our names, “Special Agent Ann Flemming, Agent Megan Diea of the Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms Agency and Detective Nora Delany of the N.O.P.D.” 

“I’m going to leave the briefing to Ann, Nora and Megan.” His gaze sweeps out over the small crowd of officers and agents before he finishes, “I’ll be leaving for the White House in fifteen minutes, Agent’s Flemming and Diea and Detective Delaney are in charge. If at any point I find that you have not followed their direction, regardless of which agency you work for, I will have you reassigned to an outpost in the coldest parts of Alaska. We are here to work as a team; I expect that to be done.” 

Grabbing his file folders, he turns on his heel and motions for Ann to step up and offering a brief, “I’ll touch base with you tonight,” to Ann and a nod of his head to us, makes his way out of the room. 

My friend’s chest rises and falls before she steps to the podium and clears her throat. “I’ll make this brief as we need to split up and get started.” She moves to the board to our left and points at a group photos of three men, “These are the Sung brothers, Li, Chow and 

Shun. Their speciality is weapons. In a week’s time, they will be coming to town to drop off a major shipment at NOLA’s Lakefront Airport.” 

Ann then turns to a large map of the U.S. and points to a few flagged locations while saying, “Our problem here is that these shipments have been garnering some attention. A few guns in the mix are hot. Some of them have been in shootings where the guns were supposed to be destroyed only to turn up in another part of the country in another shooting. There are reports in Boston, New York, Phoenix and Little Rock. All of them are tied to the Sung brothers and the weapons used were supposed to be destroyed.” 

She turns back to the podium and rests against it, placing her hands on either side of the stand. “Our job here is multilayered. One, we need to get enough together so that my A.U.S.A. can indict the Sung’s; two, we need to find out why supposedly destroyed weapons are turning up to kill our own and three, determine who else may be involved.” She pauses a moment to look at her notes. “Alright, from the F.B.I. we have Agents Beckwith, Nguyen and McPhearson, from the A.T.F. Smith, Holmes and Priddy and from the N.O.P.D. officers Davenport, Magana and Byrd. It’s nice to have everyone aboard.” 

Megan motions with her head and we both stand flanking my friend. “Nguyen, Holmes and Byrd are with me,” Megan says and steps down from the platform while three men rise and follow her out the door. 

I glance at my paper and say, “McPhearson, Smith and Magana are with me,” I say. “Brock if you want to take McPhearson and Smith to conference room three, I’ll be along shortly.” Magana nods and I watch as the two agents follow him out. 

“That leaves me with Beckwith, Priddy and Davenport,” Ann clips, “Gentleman we’re in conference room four. I’ll see you in a few.” 

The room is empty once again and Ann covers her face with one hand, rubbing her eyes, while her other rises, her index finger stretches out and asks for a moment. 

Her hands drop and she looks at me. “Don’t say it Nora. I’m sorry; I would have given you a heads up if I had known. And before you ask, John is a consultant for the White House. He has been since nineteen-eighty-seven and no I don’t know what he’s up to.” 

My hands go to my hips as I look her over. Crap. 

“Fine, but why me?” I ask. 

“Because he asked if you would be willing to work with us. I wanted to call and ask, but when I got the call this morning, and then the question was raised about finding a liaison for the department, there was no time, he just hoped you wouldn’t cop an attitude straight away.” 

“And I would because?” I wonder. 

“Because it’s a notorious truth that the local agencies hate when we come in and muddy the waters. The nice thing is, is that my division at least, has a decent working relationship with local authorities, considering all of us in my department have come from police departments.” 

I give her a final once over and nod. There’s nothing that can be done about it now. I might as well just deal. “Alright, let’s just try to get through this and you and I will talk more tonight.” 

She nods and grabs her files to head out. Following suit, we split up as I stand in front of the room that holds my team. 

Steeling myself before the entrance, I square my shoulders and enter the room. This should be fun.  


* * *

  


My hands rest casually on my hips and Nora is staring back at me with her arms folded across her chest. The blue t-shirt she’s wearing is pulled tight across her chest and the color brings out the tan she comes by so easily. 

And here I thought the Irish were supposed to burn. 

Silly me. 

Her tongue causes her bottom lip to stick out as she presses her lips together. I just informed her of the conversation I had with Dan and really, she looks less happy about it than I was. 

At least there’s comfort there. It’s a downright crappy way to be comforted but I know now that it wasn’t her decision to keep me out of the case. 

“So,” she sighs, “What do we do?” 

“What do we do with what?” Ann asks as she steps into our space. 

Directing a glare in Ann’s direction, she snips, “Dan’s being an ass.” 

An ‘oh’ face appears on our friends features and she says, “Lemme guess, he’s putting you on desk duty?” 

“You knew?” I ask. 

She shuffles her feet a moment and it’s the first time that I’ve ever seen the confident woman unsure. “I knew that I could only have one person assigned to the detail for lead. Assuming protocol, you either got desk duty or a temporary new partner.” 

Nora sucks her teeth and a scowl plants itself on her features. “You didn’t think to mention that?” 

Sighing, she runs her hand through her hair. “It was a possibility.” She looks between the two of us, her own look of displeasure marring her beautiful face. “I’m sorry. But this was the only time I was probably going to have a chance to work with Nora and I didn’t think that it would be a huge deal, but if it is…” she trails off and leaves us to fill in the blanks for ourselves. 

Warring with her discomfort and my annoyance, I know I need to be more objective about this than I am. If I’m honest the problem I have is that Nora is working a dangerous case without me. 

I don’t like not being there for her as backup. The few times we’ve had to work independently of each other were taxing on us professionally and personally. 

But, the logical part of my brain comes into play and voices the rational. We knew going into this that the job comes first, that we would have to set personal feelings and entanglements aside. Besides, at least there’s going to be someone I trust implicitly watching my partners back. 

“It’s okay,” I relent. “I’ll take the new partner.” 

“You know who it is?” Nora asks surprised. 

I shake my head. “Dan said that when I come in tomorrow I’ll have all the information.” 

My Nora purses her lips and huffs. “Alright. There’s not a whole lot that can be done about it now anyhow.” She directs a look to Ann and the woman straightens. 

“I’m gonna go finish up the new assignments.” Directing a look to Nora, she says, “I’ll see you in a few,” and then looking at me and offering an apologetic smile, “Go get Jill, you guys can do some damage to our bank accounts, I’m gonna owe her for interrupting our vacation.” 

We laugh lightly and watch as Ann’s back retreats behind the conference room door. 

“I’ll see you later.” In an uncharacteristic show of affection, Nora laces our hands together and offers a squeeze before backing off. “How did you get here by the way?” 

“I had daddy drop off a car.” I manage a brave smile and say goodbyes, waiting to leave until after she shuts the door to the room she came from to talk to me. 

Sighing, I trudge down the steps and out of the precinct to the SLK that I borrowed. Making the short trek to Nora’s apartment, I knock before letting myself in. 

“Hello?” Jill’s voice calls from the living room. 

“It’s me,” I offer and shut the door. Rounding the wall into the living room, I see Jill curled up on the couch with a book in her lap. 

Her eyebrow rises in question as I plop down next to her. Shrugging, I say, “Seems your wife and my partner are on a case together.” 

“You aren’t working with them?” surprise tainting the question. 

Shaking my head, I answer, “Nope. I get to work with a new partner for the time being.” 

“Hmm,” she hums, “Lemme guess, you aren’t too pleased?” 

I snort, “Pleased as punch about being left out of the loop.” 

“Well as long we’re riding the bitter train, I’ll join the punch and let you know I wasn’t really too happy when John called and told Ann that her vacation was cut short for this new case.” 

It’s the first time I’ve heard her speak about Ann’s job in an annoyed tone. Truthfully, I’ve never really thought about their differing professions effecting their personal life. Nora and I blended that pretty well. There are rough patches and things sometimes need smoothing over, but for the most part our schedules are the same. It’s never caused us to leave another out in the cold… 

Except for today. 

“Does this happen to you two a lot?” I inquire. 

“Not as often as you’d think, but when it does, I try to be understanding. I get it. She’s out catching bad guys and saving people, but,” she stops and holds up her thumb and index finger offering an inch of space between the pads of her fingers, “I do feel a bit put out.” 

“Being in love with someone who’s schedule is pretty much random can be a chore,” I joke, trying to take the bite out of the reality of the situation. 

“Indeed.” She sets her book on the coffee table and stands, slipping on a pair of sandals that were by the couch. “The upside is that I can shop or whatever and Ann doesn’t say anything. She’s cheap and hates to spend money.” 

Grinning, she offers me her hand and I take it so she can hoist me up from my seat. “Although today, I get to be annoyed with her because, this trip was supposed to be interruption free. My wife doesn’t know it yet, but she’s bought the two of us a few outfits.” 

I laugh with her and shake my head. 

“She can buy you some new clothes. I can buy my own, but really, there’s this sale at a few boutiques in the Quarter that I was going to go to today. You up for some new shoes?” 

“Why bother asking.” I wait as she grabs her purse and a pair of sunglasses to complete her ensemble. Looking stylishly put together, I approve of the low slung jeans, and spaghetti strapped tank top she’s wearing. Simple, but on her it looks good. “Lead the way Nikki dear. It’s been a while since I’ve perused the great city of New Orleans.” 

She follows me out and down to the car. I focus on the shoes that will soon be in my tender loving care and try to put aside the seed of worry and annoyance that’s planted itself in the pit of my gut. Nora will be fine and I can work with someone else for a little while. It’s not the end of the world. 

I just hope Ann and Nora keep each other safe.  


* * *

  


June Lee revs to life as I wait on Ann to get into the passenger seat. It’s after six in the evening and my eyes burn from the amount of reports that we looked over today. As my new partner closes the door her phone starts to chirp. Quickly, she snatches it up and answers, “Flemming.” 

Fussing a moment with the seat belt she hits the option for speaker phone and sets her phone/palm pilot/mini-whatzit on the dashboard as she buckles herself in. 

“Ann you have Nora with you?” the crackly voice asks. 

“Yep, John. Shoot.” Ann answers as she pulls the door shut. 

“Good evening ladies. I just wanted to check in. Seems I’m going to be in D.C. longer that I would like,” her boss explains. “What I wanted to do is just make sure you two touch base with me. Ann fill me in daily. Also, I’m having a courier drop a file that came our way from San Francisco. I need you to review and then send to…who do we have in the city? I know we’ve worked there before.” John trails off. 

“Rory Castillo and his partner Gene Patel. They worked the Last Call case with us a few years back,” Ann answers. 

“Hmm, alright, call them and have them butt their nose in this new case. Send over the requisite paperwork to the superiors listed on the file.” We hear paperwork shuffling in the background and then he picks up, “Ann, before you send it I want you to look it over. Give them your input and steer them in the right direction for the investigation.” 

Ann’s face darkens as she asks, “Something I should know?” 

He sighs into the phone, “I don’t know. I took a cursory glance at the file, but it just bugged. The photos from the crime scene didn’t…I was missing something and I’m hoping you could shed the light. Also, I’ll be sending Luce and Travis out for back up so let Rory and Gene know they’ll have company.” 

“’Kay. Is there a reason why we’re sending out a full team?” 

“Part of that whole ‘bugged’ feeling I got. I think we’ll need it.” He stops talking as a muffled voice sounds behind him. He ‘uh-huh’s’ a coupla times and comes back to us. “Where am I sending this file? I need you on it tonight.” 

“Send it to 231 Conti Street. #206,” I answer for Ann. 

“Will do. I need to go. Ann, we’ll talk tomorrow and please do me a favor and beg forgiveness from Jill. I meant what I said this morning.” 

Ann sighs and pulls on her lip. “I will. She can ream you instead of me.” 

He snorts into the phone and says, “She knows how to get a hold of me. Good night ladies.” 

“Give’em hell, John,” Ann smiles ruefully and hits the end button on her contraption. 

I raise an eyebrow over at my friend as she tugs at her lower lip in thought. Her brow crinkles more and then suddenly she stops and her face relaxes. “Alright, to your place it is.” 

“Everything okay?” I ask, placing a hand on her thigh. 

“Dunno,” she says shaking her head. “Him in D.C. is no good. Things have been tense with the new administration and then this new case on top of the stuff he’s sending over tonight. He’s right, Jill’s gonna call him and rip him a new one.” She smirks and says, “Let’s go. That file will be at the apartment within the next two hours and I need to smooth things over with Jill before she pitches a fit.” 

I put June in gear and we head towards my apartment. Ann and I never really talk shop when we’re together. It’s always catch up on the more mundane life things and the stuff that we do on our off time that fills our visits together. Getting involved work wise now, I think maybe that was a mistake because I really don’t know what her job entails. 

The cursory answer I got a while back was that she works for the Department of Special Investigations. The vague description she gave went something along the lines of her and a team of other agents spend their time in various parts of the country assisting local authorities with hard to solve murders, serial killings and missing person cases. But hearing John and getting a glimpse of her work world, I’m thinking it’s a lot more involved than that. 

I’ve never seen a federal agent, let alone a director, operate the way that those two seem to. What’s more is that spending the little bit of time with them together as I did, there’s a synchronicity between the two that’s at the very least interesting and at most makes me wanna ask some questions later on. 

I hang a left to zip up a side alley that’ll put us a block away from my place when Ann’s voice interrupts my thoughts, “Hey, is Paulette’s still open?” 

I think a moment as it’s been forever since I picked up a bouquet of flowers. The last time was for Mother’s Day this past May. Did I get ‘em from Paulette’s? “Uh, I think. We can swing by and check. There a reason why you need a flower shop?” I ask wryly. 

“I’m cutting vacation short to catch gun smugglers and tonight I’ll be looking at crime scene photos all night on at least two murders. I need to make amends and offer penance.” She smirks and shakes her head, resigned to cutting short her time with her wife. 

“You are so whipped,” I tease and pull to a stop next to the flower shop in question. The open sign is visible and I kill the engine. 

“Hey, better to be whipped than without consistent nookie,” she teases me and then hops out of the car. 

I laugh as she disappears inside and silently I have to agree. I’ve made my own trips to the flower shop since starting this relationship with Nikki. 

It takes only a few minutes for Ann to slip back into the car with a mid-size arrangement of flowers. I look over and laugh. 

“What?” she asks indignantly. “Look, these are her favorite flowers, Stargazer Lilies, Tulips and Carnations. If I play this right, I may only have to spend half the week on the couch instead of the whole week on the couch.” 

I shake my head and put June back out on the street. “Whipped. And really, I’ll deny this if you ever call me on it, but it’s sweet.” 

Ann grins at me as we pull up next to my apartment building. “I know. And see, there’s that hopelessly romantic streak that I know and love.” She playful reaches over and pinches my cheek. “It’s one of your more endearing qualities, Nora Marie.” 

I muster a good natured scowl and kill the engine, thinking that I’m going to have my own bit of damage control to do tonight as well.


	3. Ignorance

Ignorance 

Oblivious to the world, my lover sleeps on her stomach. I watch the gentle rise and fall of her back. The smooth skin and toned muscle expanding and contracting in my darkened bedroom. Cocking my head to the side, I admire the gentle slope of her nose, the arch of her brow, slack and at peace and then down further to her lips, curved ever so slightly upward in sleep, like she’s smirking – almost. 

Is it odd to be able to want to share things with someone so much that you want to be inside their dream? 

I guess it doesn’t matter if it’s odd or not, it’s what it is. 

In the time Nora and I have been together we’ve shared so much. I know working with her and then coming home with her has created this bond that I can’t seem to find words to describe. 

And really maybe that’s why me not being able to work with her now is bugging me so much. We’ve worked separately only two times before. Neither were particularly fun, but… 

Neither of us were temporarily reassigned to another partner and this time we both have been. She has Ann and I have… 

Well, I’ll find out today who Dan’s stuck me with. Maybe it’ll be Gantt or McCullough. I could stand either of them for a week or two. 

My attention is drawn back to Nora’s face as her brow crinkles slightly and the ghost of a smile she was wearing vanishes to be replaced with a slight frown. Did her dreams take a turn for the worse or is it something else? 

Her hand reaches out and rests on my exposed upper thigh. Just as quickly as the frown came, it vanishes to allow my lover her peaceful slumber once again. I relax against the headboard and continue to watch over her. 

It’s not like I got much sleep last night, that stupid dream… 

Nightmare really, but it happens every single time I have it. 

I wake up cold and clammy, tears leaking from my eyes and the feel of a half ton of bricks sitting on my chest. Usually I can calm down enough, if Nora’s sharing my bed, but on those nights we sleep apart, it’s almost impossible. 

Those nights I usually call Darius. 

Last night, Nora was here, but sleep after I awoke was evasive and I’ve been looking over her for the last two hours. 

I shake my head, I don’t think it’s normal to do so, but I don’t want to move. I glance across the room at the clock on my dresser, five-thirty a.m., I could try and go back to sleep, but Nora’s hand slides up my thigh igniting a small brush fire in the pit of my belly. 

My lips curve upward in a smirk as I sit and up and remove my robe. I toss it towards the edge of the bed, slip down into the covers and over to Nora. Propping my head up on my arm, I use the tips of my fingers to caress the side of her face. I trail a finger down a delicate jaw, over sleep-dried lips and then change course to follow the curve of her neck and brush her hair out of the way as I travel south. 

In the wake of my touch, I notice the skin pimple and ripple causing my lover to stir ever so slightly. Taking more initiative, I lean in and nibble lightly on her exposed ear. This causes the effect I was hoping for, her eyes flutter open and a low, throaty moan vibrates out of her chest and into me. 

Over the years, it got harder to remember the emotion and response Erica elicted from me, but I can, without guilt, say that I don’t think she ever did the things she did by just a moan. 

“Nik?” my partner’s sleepy voice fills the room. 

“Shh,” I purr in her ear, “it’s early, lemme have my fun.” 

Acquiescing to my request, her head drops back down on the pillow and a full smile graces her beautiful lips. Shifting around, I press my body against hers and tug the sheet down around to her lower back, barely exposing the start of her bottom. 

My hand glides over her flesh and my lips nip, kiss and lick along her shoulder and down her back. Coming to the edge of the sheet, I pull it the rest of the way off, letting it bunch at the edge of the bed. My need pulls me downward, laying kiss after kiss down her length, over her right cheek, to the back of her thigh and knee. 

My ministrations cause her to giggle and ask, “Is this to make up for last night?” 

A small snort escapes and I mumble through my quest to map her body with my lips, “Well we both sort of got naked and then promptly fell asleep.” 

“Hmm, true,” she hums and interrupts my progress by turning over, exposing her front to me. A hand reaches out, clasps my bicep, and tugs me up to eye level with Nora. “What time is it?” 

“Early enough,” I whisper and close the distance between our lips. My intention was for it to be a welcome peck, but the prodding of her tongue automatically causes me to part my lips to grant her entrance. 

Adjusting, I swing my leg over her and rest lightly on her hips, my hair falling around us in a curtain. I pull away from her only inches and tap the tip of her nose with my index finger. 

Her smile chases away the lingering ghosts of my dream as her eyes sparkle, alive and unharmed. It also provokes in me a heat and need to claim her. 

Some would call it animalistic, but I, for the need of decorum, will label it wanton and passionate. As my head lowers, I latch on to the delicate skin covering her collarbone. I pick a spot that won’t be visible in work attire to suck and bite on, ensuring a mark will linger for days. 

As my mouth works the flesh underneath it, my hands travel her body, stopping to play with two full, tantalizing mounds of flesh. I toy with her stiffening nipples, rolling them between my fingers and offer a slight tug when she groans approvingly. 

Needing to refocus my efforts, I release the skin on her collarbone, pull back to admire my handy work and kiss it once, gently blowing across the heated surface. Scooching down, my hands grasp hips and my mouth covers a nipple. Her response is a hand tangled in my hair to hold me close and a mumbled, “Fuck.” 

It’s a wondrous thing when you find someone whose own need drives and stokes yours. In all the liaisons I partook in to chase away the void Erica left, it was never about them. It was filling my own need and then making sure I heard neither hide nor hair from them again. 

The magic of letting someone in far enough to get to that space of selflessness, where their need becomes yours and the only focus you can hold is to ensure their pleasure is a heady experience. Nora does it to me every single time and always, I always feel like I own the universe; that it rests in the palms of my hands when I leave her spent. 

Her need now becomes clear as she bucks against my stomach and I feel her heat leave damp skin behind. I release my current prize and trail kisses down her tummy, lingering to kiss and bite the skin right above her bikini line. I tease her for a moment longer, wanting to hover in the purgatory of desire. 

When my name passes her lips and a please is offered, I relent and lift her right leg over my shoulder to open her up to me. I only take a second to admire her before nuzzling the patch of hair and parting her lips with my tongue, taking one long sweep up to end at her clit. I swirl my tongue around the bundle of nerves and feel her tense around me. Her heel digs into my shoulder while her left leg tenses and the thigh muscle dances against my cheek. 

Her hand grasps the back of my head pushing me further inside as a groan and moan follow. Not wanting to torture her, I slip two fingers inside and set a hard pace, letting my fingers and tongue work synchronically to drive my girl over the edge. 

It takes her less time than anticipated as I feel her tense, inside and out. She cries out, my name falling from her lips as more of a curse than a reverence. Of course, I know that only she could make a curse sound as sexy as she does. As she relaxes, her leg falls from my shoulder to lie limply at my side. 

Gently, I remove my fingers and use my tongue to clean her up; relishing in the taste and small spasms her body offers me. Now, if my hardheaded lover would see reason, she could get over herself, move in with me and wake up like this every morning. 

I wonder how much convincing I’m gonna hafta do right before she pulls me up once again to her lips and kisses the nagging thoughts of her reluctance from my mind.   


* * *

  


Nikki’s hand brushes up my arm and gently squeezes my shoulder before waving goodbye to Ann and me. I watch her a moment longer than I probably should as she disappears behind Dan’s office door. Sighing, I turn my attention back to my new partner in crime and offer a flourish of my hand, directing her down the hall to the task force workroom. 

The door clicks shut behind us and I see that the place is empty. At seven a.m., it’s not like I expected the room to be full. The team isn’t due in for another hour or so and thankfully, Ann likes to be early just as much as I do. 

Although, I still think that she could have used some more sleep. When we got to my place, she was slumped over the kitchen table with notes and crime scene photos spread around her. 

Setting the file folder down that I gathered for Ann as she rushed to get this morning, I look her over a little bit longer. The dark circles are barely there, but she’s wearing the pants from yesterday and I think Jill’s shirt. Her hair’s in a haphazard ponytail and she’s been stifling yawn after yawn since we woke her. 

“You know,” she says sitting down across from me, but not looking up from the laptop she’s bootin up, “staring at me won’t make it look any better.” 

I snort. “You look fine. I just think you could have slept a little longer. I didn’t think you would have fallen asleep at the kitchen table.” Moving to the credenza behind me, I start making a fresh pot of coffee. 

“I got enough,” she grunts. 

Turning to her as the coffee begins to drip in the cup I’ve placed under it, I ask, “Come to any conclusions about that file your boss sent you?” 

“Yes, none of them good,” she answers absently. “In fact,” she says pulling over the conference unit on the desk and dialing a number, “I think I need to get this out to our team.” 

I fix two fresh cups of coffee and then place the decanter under the percolator to finish filling up as I hear talk. “Luce, where you and that partner of yours at?” Ann barks as the person on the other end picks up. She looks up at me as I place the steaming mug within her grasp and smiles gratefully. 

“Getting ready to leave,” the annoyed voice on the other end of the phone says through the speakers on the desk unit. 

“E.T.A.?” Ann asks gathering a few papers and separating them out. 

“We should hit S.F. no later than ten a.m. pacific standard time,” Luce answers. 

“Alright, I’m gonna get my notes up to you now. If you want, call me when you get them. I talked to Rory briefly last night and he’ll be the one to pick you guys up if you don’t want to grab a car.” 

She sips at the hot liquid and bobs her head as Luce speaks, “That might be better than snagging a vehicle as soon as we hit town.” 

I shouldn’t be listening or at least I don’t think I should be, but I do. Seeing how she works will help me, help us work this case together. 

I watch as she snatches up a small stack of photos and arranges them on the white board behind her. What she stares at is a tableau of three crime scenes. Three bodies, three kids who can’t be anymore than thirteen or fourteen years old. 

Each child’s photograph tells me the bodies were arranged, set up and staged. Their hands are bound in front of them to rest on their chest, their right ankles cross over the left and each is well dressed and restful looking. Well, as well resting as one can look with a line that bisects their abdomen to allow their intestines to dangle outside of their body cavity. 

“View photographs, one-thirty-four, five and six, two-seventeen and eighteen and three-oh-four, five and nine.” Ann’s hands go to her hips as she stares at the photos. 

“Okay, they’re up. What am I looking for?” Luce asks as we hear more shuffling going on at the other end of the line. 

“Besides the obvious, what do you see?” my friend asks. 

I move to stand next to her and look the photos over in more detail. Hard to look at, yet equally hard to look away from. Anger sits heavy in the bottom of my stomach and I shake my head. What kind of monster could do such a thing? 

“Uh,” Luce stutters and says, “a nine, eleven and twelve year old disemboweled. A transverse cut along the lower abdominal cavity…” 

“Quit reading the facts, tell me what the images say, Lucy,” Ann clips. I look at my friend from the corner of my eye and see her jaw clench and quiver as she tries to get Lucy to see whatever it is that she sees. 

“They’re arranged obviously. It’s a set up of some sort and for whatever reason our unsub wanted these kids to be found looking for the most part peaceful. If it wasn’t for the wound, they would look like they’re sleeping.” 

Ann nods and asks, “Anything else?” 

I can sense that Lucy, while we are unable to see her, is probably shaking her head and gnawing at her lower lip. ‘Cause I’d probably be doing the same thing. 

“The crosses,” I answer, “And the position of the bodies, they’re the same in every single pose. It’s also the same exact pose most are buried in.” 

The corner of Ann’s mouth turns upward along with her eyebrow as she looks at me. “Oh, Lucy this Detective Nora Delaney, Nora, Luce, Luce, Nora.” 

“Hi, Detective,” Lucy chuckles into the phone. 

“Hi, Luce,” I reply. 

“Now that we have that out of the way. Nora what’s the significance?” Ann asks me. 

Shrugging, I say, “From what I can see, from what I can make of the pictures, the killer’s using the kids as a means to an end. They’re not the ones that are truly intended to be the victims.” 

“Why?” she asks a satisfied smirk gracing her fine features. 

I chew on my lower lip and point out the consistencies between the photographs, “Well, between three crime scenes you have the positioning of the bodies, the clothes, all three have the same exact gold chain and cross on. The killer made sure it was visible. And the near,” I swallow the bile that rises in the back of my throat, “reverence of how the bodies seem to be treated.” 

“Anything else?” Ann asks me. 

I cock my head to the side and pick up the glaringly obvious detail that led me to my conclusions. “There’s no blood,” I hiss. There really is not a speck of blood in any of the photographs. “That tells us that the disembowelment is part of the ritual. It’s not the cause of death and this is where they were dumped not killed. It also tells us that the act is part of the message.” 

Ann’s face breaks out into a grin. “Exactly. Did you catch all that Luce?” 

A loud whistle is followed up by, “Yeah and nice all the way around. Where have you been hiding her at, Ann?” 

“She’s only brought out for special occasions,” my friend jokes and shoulders into me. “So, here’s the deal, I’m going to get my notes up to you ASAP. In terms of focus on the investigation, I would start with the common threads in the vics. Send me updates every thirty-six hours and if you find something and think I should take a look, I want to see it immediately.” 

“Anything else?” the other agent asks. 

“Keep the focus on any suspects you get whose age range is going to be between forty-five to fifty years old. And this isn’t their first set of kills. I would look at some historical cold cases; see if anything sorta fits these cases.” 

I hear Lucy sigh and say, “Alright, I’ll call you later tonight.” 

“Fine, remember Luce, the Devil’s in the details and this guy’s being pretty fucking specific. Be careful.” 

Ann begins pulling the photos down as Lucy ends the phone call, “Will do Oh Wise One.” 

The line goes dead and I walk over to hit the off button. “So,” I say turning back to Ann who’s staring at the photographs in her hand again, “This is what you usually look at at work?” 

She shakes her head and looks up at me, for the first time, I see the shadow’s of her job reflected in her usually, joyful brown eyes. “Sometimes,” she mumbles shrugging it off. “Some are worse than others. This,” she holds up the photos and shakes them at me, “aren’t nearly the worst of what I’ve seen.” 

I nod, wanting to drop the subject and the implication. “If you wanna fax them up, there’s a copy room a few doors down.” 

She nods and snatches her hand written notes from the table. “Thanks,” she says and takes off at a brisk pace. 

I watch her retreat and shake my head. As a cop, you see your fair share of shit. While Ann’s never let on that her job takes its toll, I know it has to. 

I wonder how much of that she shares with Jill. How much of that does my friend want to? 

My brow furrows and I go back to my own stack of files to start sorting through. It’s not my case and I need to let it go, but the images of those kids take up residence in my mind that I won’t be able to shake for a while.   


* * *

  


As I step from the stifling interior of the unmarked Police Interceptor that my new partner signed out for today, I finish off the bottle of water I’ve been nursing since lunch. While I have the keys to June Lee and Nora gave me explicit permission to use her baby while she was working with Ann, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. 

Originally, I had wanted to, but within five minutes of meeting Detective Michael Toussaint, I didn’t want him tainting a thing in the world I’ve built with Nora. Him riding in June Lee will only happen over my dead body. 

So instead of riding in the comfort of our car with Nora, I get this pig headed, _fils de putain_ , that not only causes me to lose my temper but also has me cussing in ways that would make Nora blush. 

Michael emerges from the driver’s side as I stand on the sidewalk to wait on him. To look at him, with his stylishly, floppy blonde hair and choirboy good looks, the automatic assumption is that he would be affable and charming. It's something he can do...until he opens his mouth. 

Then it's shot to hell. 

In our first five minutes together, he leered at me and then asked me out. When I turned him down, he sneered and asked, “Lemme guess you’re one of them feminist, man-hating dykes?” The snort and derisive chuckle from him, set me on edge, but I didn’t take the bait. 

After that I shot him a nasty look that shut him up and I wasn't very nice when I reiterated my rejection. I think the exact words I used were, "I would not go on a date with you if you were the last person on the planet and the only reason for the date was to continue the human race. I would joyously saunter off into the sunset of extinction before contemplating anything more with you than a professional relationship." 

He took that as a challenge this morning and insisted we go to lunch when I had to meet with Darius; he asked afterward if Darius was my “nigger boy toy”. 

I could handle the dyke barb, mainly because I am, a dyke, gay or lesbian, whichever synonym you would like to use, but I actually like men. The ones that aren’t racist pigs at any rate. 

What I couldn’t handle was the use of the “n” word. Call it vestiges from my life with Erica, but the "n" word as I say because vocalizing it makes my stomach churn and it is the quickest way to see me livid and murderous. Or perhaps I feel deeply offended at ignorance in general and the use of language like that shows a level of ignorance I can’t stand. 

Since then and after when I, in a fashion less tactful than my lover is capable, told him to only speak to me as it pertains to the job, he's been acting like a petulant teenager. 

Fine by me as long as keeps his racist homophobic remarks to himself. 

He grunts at me as I start walking up the pathway to the house we were called out to. The neighborhood is at best run down and I get the feeling that it always looked this way. I don't think the neighborhood or the single family homes that line the streets have seen better days. The dirt that replaces the grass that probably never existed is muddy from the thundershowers we had last night. 

Three cruisers and a forensics van crowd the street and yellow tape runs the length of the front of the small house. I unclip my badge from my belt, flash it to the uniform guarding the entrance to the scene. I step into the entry way and slip on booties and gloves. 

Two techs are roping off the living room and another is dusting for prints in the kitchen. I head straight to the living room, following the trail of blood that leads me in that direction. No coroner yet. I wonder if Charlie has the day off or if he's just running late. 

From the right, I step through the threshold of the hallway and look around. Archs of arterial spatter cover the TV and the wall behind it. Looking down I see two bodies, male and female, slashed and cut open. The man lies face up, eyes open and staring at the ceiling. The woman is face down and her head is turned from me. I don’t need to see to know the blank look that fills her eyes. 

A lamp is knocked over; the coffee table is upturned and resting on its side. The TV is silent but shows the snowy screen from the days of yore or when you unhook the cable box and there’s no signal coming in. 

“Nik?” I hear my name and turn from my examination of the crime scene to see Charlie crooking a finger at me, looking more troubled than I’ve ever seen him. 

I step over an evidence marker and meet him in the hallway. From over his shoulder, I see Toussaint talking to a few uniforms. 

“Charlie the bodies are in there, not out here,” I joke with him, trying to lighten up the mood, but my joke falls flat. 

“Where’s Nora?” he asks, all business. 

“Working with a task force. I’m partnered with Toussaint,” I answer, my concern ratcheting up due to his unease. 

He swallows, but nods. “Follow me, but leave that horse behind out here to talk to the rest of the knuckle heads.” 

I couldn’t agree more so I say nothing as we pass the horse’s ass and follow Charlie towards the back of the house. The hallway is short and underneath the scent of death and blood, the cloying scent of poverty and hopelessness churn my stomach. 

He stops at a door and turns to me, concern creasing his features. “Did anyone give you any background on the nine-one-one call that came through?” 

I shake my head and say, “The call came in and Toussaint took it. Charlie, dear, you are starting to worry me. What’s wrong?” 

He runs a hand through his hair and answers, “The victims are George and Carlene Heidecker, ages twenty-three and twenty-eight. The call was placed by their son, Lance, age eight.” 

My mouth momentarily drops open, but I respond accordingly and school my features waiting on him to continue. 

“Apparently, two days ago, the officers out front, Broussard and Lahey responded to this house on a domestic disturbance call. They responded to this one seeing as how they already knew the couple. They come in and the kid’s hiding under the kitchen table with his mama’s cell phone in his hand.” He sighs and hooks a finger to the door we’re standing in front of. “Lance is in there. Me and Rita Tompkins have been in there since we arrived. He’s not in shock, but it’s not good either, Nikki.” 

I feel the muscles in my jaw clench and close my eyes briefly trying to center myself. This is worse than I thought. 

I breathe in through my mouth and out of my nose. 

“Okay,” I say slowly, “let’s see if we can get him to open up a little.” 

“I was thinkin’ letting you take Lance, if the kid’ll warm up to you, back to the station and leave me with your temporary partner to finish up here,” Charlie offers, “Maybe we can get Rita to drive you back.” 

That’s not a bad idea. “Alright,” I reply, running my own hand through my hair. 

We enter the room slowly; a twin mattress and box spring rest on the floor, an overturned egg crate and piece of plywood are the only pieces of furniture in the room. On the floor, Rita kneels in front of a little boy with soft, brown hair and pale blue eyes. I slip my badge from my belt once again and crouch down to get eye level with my potential witness. 

I smile, softly, not too big, but not too fake either. I want him to trust me. “Hi,” I whisper, “I’m Nikki, Lance. It’s nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand and clutch my badge in the other letting him see I’m part of the good guys. 

He eyes skirt from my face, to my hand and to my badge. “You an officer?” he asks in a gentle, bayou accent. 

I nod and hand over my badge, dropping my outstretched hand. Tentatively, he reaches out and takes the shield from my hands. His little fingers glide over the metal surface and then he hands it back to me. 

“Thank you,” I say and clip my badge back on to my waist. “I was wondering if maybe you and I and maybe Officer Tompkins here could go for a little ride.” 

“Why?” he asks, clutching at the bed sheet his hands returned to. 

“Well,” I say pressing my lips together trying to find the right words. “I’m thinkin’ you could use a bite to eat and the other officers are doin’ work that you shouldn’t be around here for.” 

He looks me over a minute more and then over to Rita who has on an encouraging smile. Slowly, he nods and stretches out his hand. 

Gratefully, I take it and we stand together before he looks up at me and asks while looking at his bare feet, “Ca…can you…carry me?” 

Without thought, I hoist him in my arms and his legs wrap around my waist. I feel his face bury itself in the crook of my neck as we head past the uniforms, crime scene techs, Charlie and the bodies of his parents.   


* * *

  


Looking up, I blink, take the heel of my hands and use them to rub my dry, tired eyes. The pressure feels great and the rubbing is taking care of the itchiness that’s been annoying me for the past few minutes. Stopping, I wait for the spots to clear and my eyes to refocus as I see the two out of four of us gather their things to leave for the day. 

Ann looks over at me and I shrug. We’re hitting the twelfth hour in our day, but there’s some stuff I want to talk to her about without the rest of our team. I hold up a stack of paper and she nods, tucking back into her own notes. 

Alright, well then I can get back to this. I tap the edge of my paper with my pen, reviewing the thoughts I’ve put voice to on paper and try to come up with the thread. I breathe deep and remember that going back to basics is always the best option when things get too muddled. 

Life to date the Sungs have trafficked close to sixty-thousand pieces of metal. Only in the last two years have the pieces they’ve sold been part of law enforcement caches that were meant for destruction. 

There have been four police related shootings, with ten dead, in Boston, New York, Phoenix and Little Rock. 

The only time that the Sungs have had to deal with a raid on one of their drops was in Boston and Houston. Both times, they got away. 

I flip a few pages back in my notes and run down the list of names that I have something niggling at the back of my mind. 

“NORA!” I look up and blink. Ann’s arms are folded across her chest and she’s glaring at me. 

“Why are you yelling?” I ask as calmly as possible. 

My friend glares at me and huffs, “’Cause I’ve been trying to get your attention for-like-ever. What are you working on over there?” I chew on my lower lip deciding on how to answer. Before I do, Ann rolls her eyes and shares first, “I am working on absolutely nothing. I thought stretching our twelve-person op would work best if we split it up differently after this morning’s meeting. I mean, was I wrong in thinking that trying to get Diea in as a potential buyer a bad thing?” 

I shake my head. “No, it’s a better shot at getting the trio someplace central. It leaves us a little short staffed here, but…” 

She sighs and tugs at her ponytail. “But it takes a robust team to manage a haphazard undercover operation and it’s our best shot at flushing them out.” 

“It was that or fly to Costa Rica and take them out down there.” I smile at her, trying to offset some of her irritation. “You have international jurisdiction?” 

She snorts and shakes her head. “I’m sure I could get it. Or well, no, John’d just tell me to go do it and he’d straighten out the mess later, once we had the idiots behind bars.” 

“So your boss is willing to risk an international incident to snag a few gun smugglers?” I tease. 

She shrugs and rolls her pen back and forth across her paper. “I know he’s willing to do what it takes to do the right thing. The rest are details that can be fixed.” 

I arch an eyebrow at her and she winks at me, saying, “There are very few times in doing what I do with the F.B.I. that when we fuck up on jurisdictional protocol that we're unable to fix it.” 

“Uh-huh,” I say, not entirely sure how to respond. “You ever gonna stop talkin’ in riddles when discussing your work with the F.B.I.?” 

“Maybe one day, Nora. Today isn’t that day,” she answers honestly. 

The funny thing is that I can actually accept that. “Alright, then if you aren’t going to break under my third degree, at least help me work this out.” I sit back in my chair and begin to think aloud, “There have been four incidents, on one, the bust that was made went south and the other bust went to shit when…” 

“When the Sungs decided blowing up the buyers was a better business tact than actually getting the money for the goods,” she fills in, “But we’re also assuming that’s why the bust went south. The only thing any of the reports have said consistently is that they were set to make the exchange when charges were let off and the building began to collapse.” 

My fingers on my left hand drum across the tabletop. “It’s not a lot.” 

“It’s nothing, Nor.” She snorts and sighs, folding her arms across her chest. I hear her foot tap from under the table. 

She’s right, it is nothing, but I’ve turned less into lots of somethings I just need to figure out what we’re missing. 

“We aren’t seeing something here,” she parrots my own thoughts back at me. 

“Agreed,” I lean forward and try to divine the common thread from my chicken scratch. 

“Alright, so,” Ann says pushing back, away from the table, goes to the large peg board to the side of the room and points at the map we put up early this morning, “The first occurrence happened in Boston, when the bust went to hell and the first sign of dirty weapons appeared. That was May two-thousand-one.” 

Standing, I join her as we rest against the conference room table and stare at the information. “Then there was the incident in New York, where two N.Y.P.D. uni’s were gunned down outside the club in Soho. That was August of the same year.” 

Ann nods and grabs a Sharpie from the tray at the base of the board, uncaps it and draws a line with an arrow from Boston to New York. 

“Then, from New York, we went to Little Rock. A warehouse raid gone wrong. Not related to the Sungs, but it was the second time a gun that was marked for destruction ended up back out on the streets that was traced back to Boston and the raid,” I fill in the next piece. 

“Right, but here’s the other thing we need to consider. The guns that were marked, they were supposed to be destroyed in Pittsburgh, PA. They didn’t come from Boston or New York or any of the other locations that have been marked,” the brunette clips and draws a question mark over the city. 

“Good question and I don’t think we have the answer for it. But it’s a good place to start,” I say ready to turn around and start looking into the city with the big question mark over it. 

“Not just yet, let’s fill in the rest of this,” she says, motioning me back over. “Okay from Little Rock, in February of this year, there was the bust gone bad in Houston. And I’m just throwing this out here, but why such shitty police work. I know things, especially in high pressure situations, can go bad quickly, but if I didn’t know any better I would say these guns are cursed.” She stands up and draws the connecting arrows and then one dotted line from Pittsburgh to Boston. 

“We oughta yap at a Houngan and pick up a gris-girs.” I drawl in a heavy Nawlins accent. 

She rolls her eyes at me and continues, “Houston happened and then we get another incident in Phoenix. Again, this was mainly local authorities and a few Marshall’s were involved here. Two were shot and three barely made it out of the building before it collapsed.” 

“Might as well add another question mark to this because what it sounds like to me is that charges were preset and while I’m not an explosives expert, I remember a few things from the academy. It was premeditated.” 

“This means the sellers were tipped off. The funny thing there as well as in Houston and Boston, the circumstances were very similar,” Ann follows my train of thought. 

“So there’s more than one common denominator in all of this. We just need to find it.” I screw my mouth to the side and hmm a little in the back of my throat. 

She looks at me and is about to give voice to the thoughts that are reflected in her eyes. She’s thinking the same thing I am. And I really don’t want to think about those implications. 

“Nor,” I hear from the doorway and see Nikki resting against the open entry. 

I feel my face break out into a grin and she smiles back at me, a little weary, but it’s a smile. 

Ann motions her in and Nikki complies, shutting the door behind her and flipping the lock. 

Ignoring the federal agent in the room, she slides up to me and wraps her arms around my waist, drawing me in for a hug. Knowing there’s no way anyone can walk in on us, I allow the contact here at work and revel in the closeness for a few moments before she pulls away and we both sigh. 

I look her over and know something’s wrong, but she’s also letting me know by the gentle pressure on my waist that I shouldn’t ask now. I dip my chin and give her a lopsided smile. 

She returns my grin this time full force before saying, “I just wanted to let ya’ll know that I’m gonna be stayin’ late.” 

“New case?” Ann asks gathering her things. 

Nikki nods and back away. “In fact, I need to head back down stairs to the interview room, I just thought I’d come say goodnight.” She blows me a kiss and waves to Ann before pulling open the door, disappearing around the corner just as quickly as she appeared. 

I sigh and Ann roles her eyes. “You two are so cute, it’s sickening.” 

I scowl her way and retort, “This from the woman that looks like a four year old at Christmas every time someone says the name Jill?” 

She flips me off good-naturedly. “Whatever. But I do think we should pack it in. I still need to call John and check in with my team in San Francisco. And you, Ms. Delaney are going to entertain Jillian while I continue to work.” 

“Babysitting costs you extra, Ann.” I take her cue, shuffle all of my notes together, and stuff them in her messenger bag. 

“It’ll be worth it,” she says, grinning. “Maybe I’ll be able to get a decent’s night sleep while we’re at.” 

I avoid telling her that’s highly unlikely and just follow her out of the building and to the garage to sign out a car for the night.


	4. Incongruence

Incongruence

The first thing that registers before my eyes flutter open is the soft lips leaving a string of kisses along my neck. The second is that I am on a ridiculously uncomfortable mattress that is most certainly not my bed or my lover’s. 

“Nik,” Nora’s voice floats up to my ears as I open my eyes, “time to get up, princess.” 

“I’m in the bunks aren’t I?” I ask, groaning as my lower back protests. As my location makes itself fully known, I jerk up and slam against the brick of the wall. 

Nora looks at me eyebrow cocked. “The doors locked and we’re alone,” she says, as if reading my mind. 

I relax marginally and flop back over, my head making a quiet thunk against the thin mattress and springs of the cot. 

“Come on,” Nora urges, “I brought coffee and breakfast.” 

“You do love me,” I tease and crack an eye open to look at the offered cup of steaming coffee sitting on the chair next to the cot. 

“I do,” she admits easily and leans down sealing her pledge with a kiss. 

I try to pull back, but she goes to deepen the embrace. So I mumble, “I know my breath is not roses, sugga.” 

“Don’t care,” she whispers back and presses her lips against mine again. 

This time I let her do her worst. I missed her last night and she has a way about her that seems to rid me of my headaches. I’m hoping that she’ll work her magic now and assist in relieving the tension headache I’ve had since yesterday afternoon. 

She climbs on to the cot, laying flush against me as I feel her right hand push my shirt up to expose my back. Her hand trails up and down, kneading the stiff muscle there. I groan as she breaks away to nuzzle my neck. 

My nose buries itself in her hair and I revel in her scent. Letting her envelop me and take away the aches from yesterday. 

“I missed you last night,” she breathes against my skin, sending shivers down my spine to coil in the pit of my stomach, “I went back to your place and fell asleep on the couch.” 

“Awe, poor baby,” I tease and cup her rear end. 

Pulling back, I see her face scrunched up in annoyance and I giggle. “It’s not funny,” she pouts, “When I tried your cell and got no answer I came down and saw you were passed out.” 

“When?” I ask amazed that I slept through my cell and her coming to check on me. 

“Oh, at about four this morning,” she says, smiling. 

“And it’s what time now?” I wonder and maintain the hushed tones our darkened corner seems to demand. 

“About five-ish. I got here and saw you, then went to go get coffee,” she admits. “I thought we could use some us time before I leave to get Ann and you go back to work.” 

I purr my approval, if only for our temporary closeness and burrow into her side. Somehow she manages to sneak her arm under my waist and pulls me closer to her. I wrap my free leg around her and hang on. 

We lay there, wrapped around each other, for how long, I don’t know, but I let the seconds and minutes drift by in a lazy sort of fashion. I breathe it all in and some of the horror from yesterday ebbs to allow some of the niggling to-do list building in my head some floor space. 

This won’t last long. I need to grab a quick shower and start back up. 

“Nikki,” my lover says soothingly, “you wanna talk about it?” 

I shake my head against her neck. No, I don’t. Not right now. 

“Okay,” she says, gently pulling away, “you need to eat. And I brought you a fresh change of clothes. I hope I did okay.” 

I laugh and kiss the tip of her nose. “I’m sure you did fine.” 

It takes a moment of floundering before either of us is up right, sitting side by side as she leans over and hands me my coffee. I take a sip of the hot beverage and don’t seem to mind so much that it burns my tongue a little. She got it perfect. Just enough cream and a bit of sugar. 

Righting herself, she sets a bag in my lap from the bakery around the corner from my place. I look at her sideways and she blushes. The fact that she saw me here, drove back to the bakery and my apartment then came back down for me does not escape my attention and she knows it. 

“Thank you,” I manage around a mouth full of the beignet. 

She leans her head against my shoulder and rubs my thigh. We sit in silence, enjoying the quiet. Our ability to just be is at the top of my list with her. She doesn’t press, doesn’t demand anything more than what I’m willing to give. I hope I do for her what she does for me. 

“I should let you get moving,” she whispers and goes to stand. 

I sigh, but silently agree. It’s going to be another bitch of a day and without Nora, yesterday seemed unnaturally long. 

She leans down and kisses my forehead, my nose and then my powder sugar dusted lips. “If you can, swing by when you’re on your lunch. I’ll make a point to take mine then.” 

I nod and watch her leave. 

Crumbling up the empty bag, I finish off the rest of my coffee, grab the duffel bag my lover brought and head to the showers. I don’t linger when I hit the basement, making short work of my shower and getting ready. A last look in one of the locker room mirrors lets me know that my hair will do well to remain in the ponytail I have it in and thankfully, a little lip-gloss brings some color to my face. 

When I hit S.C.U’s floor, the morning shift has started, but my temporary pain in the derrière is nowhere to be seen. I think God may be smiling down on me this morning. I head to my desk, offering nods of good mornings to my coworkers and snatch June Lee’s keys from my top drawer. Glancing over at Nora’s empty desk, my decent mood flattens a little. She’d be great to have on this case with me. 

Oh, well, I can make it through one measly little double homicide with an eight year old witness alone. I may not like it, but it can be done. I head for the doorway and take the steps to the parking lot. As I hit the landing to the ground floor, I see Toussaint saunter in smiling at me. 

Great. Just what I need. 

He tries for a charming smile that he doesn’t seem to realize falls flat. I shoulder past him as he tries to catch up. “Where we off to this morning?” he asks matching me step for step. 

“I was going to see the coroner and check on the progress of our victims,” I offer. “Why don’t you go back on inside and put together your notes from the scene?” 

“Nah, I got that covered. I can come with you.” He stuffs his hands in his pants pockets and I roll my eyes. “You sign out a car?” 

Crap! 

We’re standing in front of June Lee and I cringe. No, I didn’t, I want to say. I want to say I wasn’t expecting you to tag along. 

His eyes skirt over my shoulder and zero in on Nora’s baby. His eyes light up and I resist the urge kick myself. 

“Now this,” he says, touching the hood of our car, “is a nice piece of machinery.” He waggles his eyebrows at me and licks his lips. “I had one of these in high school and it was the best for taking girls out in.” 

My stomach pitches and somehow I manage to find the fake socialite I buried years ago to help ease the situation. “Michael, why don’t we get that car signed out. Maybe stop for a quick cup of coffee.” 

He shrugs and his hands drop from June Lee’s hood. I spin away and hear him follow me down to the garage and to the service window to grab a car. I’ll have to get June detailed when I’m off next. The oil from that thing in a suit is probably eating through my baby’s baby’s paint job. 

As the car’s brought up from the depths of the garage, he tries to slip into the driver’s seat, but I dangle the keys from my hand and shake my head. I walk up to the door he so kindly opened for me and pat him on the behind, effectively pushing him out of the way. I slide in to the driver’s side and drawl, “Why thank you kindly, darlin’. Now if you would be a dear and get in so we can start our day.” 

I slam the door closed as he jumps out of the way. Smiling as I watch him scurry, I think maybe I can have a little fun with him. My inner debutante has been stuffed away a bit too long it seems.   


* * *

  


I clip the I.D. badge to my shirt and follow a hurried Ann down a set of non-descript hallways towards a back room. She pushes the door open and ushers me to the inside of a small conference room with a forty-inch monitor hung on the back wall. A camera is on top of the screen to look out over the room. The view on the screen splits down the middle, on the right John’s face stares passively back at us as he sits behind a desk. The left side the screen displays a group of four people. I’m not sure who they are, but I know I’m about to find out. 

Ann takes a jack that’s hanging from the conference phone unit and plugs it into her phone. Sound comes through and I hear the conversation the four people on the left are having. Now having heard them, I can easily identify them as the team Ann has in San Francisco. 

“John, Luce, Rory, Gene and Travis, Nora and I are live,” she doesn’t pause as another screen lights up to my right and her laptop screen is projected against the wall opposite the T.V. 

She motions for me to sit across from her as John starts, “Morning, everyone.” 

The six of us get the pleasantries out of the way and then Lucy picks up, “Status update on file 13-96 is as follows…” 

For some reason the voice doesn’t match the woman. Her voice is nearly bubbly, light and high, something you would expect from a kindergarten teacher. But her looks, with deep red hair, dark blue eyes and a healthy tan, I’d more expect to see her on the news. High cheekbones, patrician nose and rounded jaw line. It’s the clothes that give away her no-nonsense attitude. A green t-shirt, brown blazer and my guess, is dark blue jeans. Maybe if she stands I’ll find out if I’m right. 

“…the details Ann and Nora provided before we came out here were helpful. Within the last twenty-four hours, we’ve had several promising hits off of N.C.I.C. and ViCap. All four of us are in the process of tying those up or hoping one of them pans out.” 

“What’s the age of the hits?” John asks. 

“The first hit came from Seattle, happened six years ago. The pattern isn’t the exact same, but there’s enough to make us look a little harder at it. The second is local. An unsolved homicide from five years ago. The other one, that we’re not looking at as closely, is from Dallas and it’s the oldest. Fifteen year old unsolved and the only reason that pinged was the wound, very similar, but that’s about it.” 

John looks down at some papers in his hands and sighs. “Alright, email us the I.D. numbers on the cases that you pinged. Ann, I hate to ask this of you, neck deep down there, but when you can a spare moment, take a look at the cases. Nora if you’d like to assist, I would be appreciative.” 

“Sure,” I say. 

“Alright. We can review tonight or early tomorrow.” Ann looks up from her computer screen and asks, “Will you be back in town soon?” 

“Right now it’s hard to say. I’m trying to talk them out of making some bad choices. I’m laying money on the fact I’m gonna fail, but I need to try. I’ll be flying out of the country in a few hours and won’t be back till late tomorrow,” John says, running a hand through his hair. 

Ann eyes his image as her brow furrows. “Are we going to have problems?” 

His lips purse at the question before answering, “Honestly, Ann, and this goes for you, Lucy and Travis, we’re going to. I have a feeling when I leave here I won’t have endeared myself to anyone and it may get touchy.” 

“Yeah, but John, even with the new administration…” Lucy tries to say. 

“The new administration,” John interrupts, “won’t interfere with anything we do at the Bureau.” 

Lucy’s and I’m assuming Travis’ eyebrows rise. Ann growls. 

“Alright, let me know when you get back and if you can get a hold of me before you leave today,” Ann’s even tone tells me everything I need to know. She stares at her boss through the lens of the camera and I see him redden under the gaze. 

“Ann…” he trails off in warning. 

She shakes her head and spits, “Don’t “Ann” me. If we’re going to…” she stops and looks to the left of the screen and then her eyes skirt to me. She must think better of it as she changes topic, “Call me before you leave and as to our current situation here, we’re tracking down some more information.” 

Ann looks at me saying, “Nora’s been a big help here. Do you want to fill them in on what we’ve been working on?” 

Shrugging and making a note to kick her in the ass when we get done here for being put on the spot, I fill them in, “Right now, we’re looking a little more closely at the bad busts. What Ann and I were talking about last night is trying to find the dots that will connect the lines.” 

“As in?” Travis I think, says, “Oh, and hi Nora. I’m Travis Bustamante.” 

“Hi, Travis. Nice to meet you,” I say smiling at him. “And the other dots…” I look to Ann and she tips her chin. “Okay, after looking at everything that the team’s compiled, there’s low level involvement from the A.T.F. weeks sometimes months before, but inevitably they pull out of the investigation right before any warrants are issued.” 

John’s right eyebrow rises getting lost in the hair hanging over his forehead. The other four vacillate between a snort and a snicker at the reveal. 

“We know who in the A.T.F.?” Lucy asks. 

Ann and I shake our heads. “We’re starting in on that. I’m waiting on some of the P.D.’s people that were involved. See if they can send me their files or copies of,” Ann informs them. 

“Well, then it seems that you two should tread softly. Keep Diea out of the loop on this line of investigation, Ann.” 

“Thanks, boss.” She smiles curtly and then digs in, “I wasn’t aware that calling the A.T.F. out on the carpet in an investigation they’re already a part of was a bad idea.” 

I snicker and John smiles good-naturedly. 

“Well,” one of the other men grouped around Lucy sing songs, “There was that time in Salt Lake City. Wasn’t it you that called the Marshall’s there no talent hicks that wouldn’t know how to work a crime scene if their life depended on it…” 

“And then,” Travis fills in, “proceeded to get shit faced with two of them and tell them all about their no talent ways?” 

“You know, I had forgotten about that,” Ann admits. “What were doing in Salt Lake City?” 

“Hunting down Jackson Jefferies,” John says. 

“Right. Well, then, we’ll not tip our hand to the other agency this time. Besides, I’ve got Nora and Nikki as drinking buddies. Not to mention Jill’s here with me so…” Ann blushes, and I suppress the smirk. 

“Poor Jill,” Lucy says, “tell her we said hello and the offer still stands when she smartens up.” 

“Back off, Hanley. I know where you live,” my friend warns affably. “Alright so anything else? Nora and I have work to do, unlike the rest of you.” 

Everyone busts up laughing and Travis is the one to not so discretely flip Ann off. When no one mentions anything else, Ann closes the call, “Alright, I will be in touch with you all later. John, we’ll speak tonight.” 

Her boss nods his head and both sides of the screen go blank. 

“So we start looking at A.T.F. agents?” I ask. 

“Seems to be the case.” She disconnects her phone from the conference unit and begins packing her things up. “We’ll meet up with the task force in an hour and have the ones that we know start to discretely pull information.” 

The only thing I can think of is how much of a cluster this going to be as I follow Ann back out of the New Orleans field office of the F.B.I.   


* * *

  


Taking a break from my interview notes and the monitor, I look around the unit floor. Very little has changed in the few days since Nora began work with the task force. Officers, in uniform and out, flitter about or remain hunched over files, folders and computer screens. It would do the department well to switch their records to digital copies, but I fear that we’re a long way off. 

Maybe I can pull the strings at the Auxiliary and allocate some of the charity funds to kick the process off. I’ll have to talk to daddy or Norma to see if it’s possible. 

Looking around, the few detectives around are actually at their desk, except for one. My eyes flick to Nora’s desk across from me. Toussaint has taken up residence at my partner’s work space and it was only the silent threat from Dan that prevented me from upturning the chair he’s sitting in. 

Having him sit across from me, in my lover’s space, ticks me off in new and interesting ways. I also know that my reaction to Toussaint while somewhat justified is a bit more…exacerbated by the raw absence of Nora. To say I miss her working this hellish case with me would be putting it mildly. 

Her visit this morning in the Bunks was a welcome surprise. We didn’t spend a lot of time together, but I’ll take what I can get right now. 

I let out a small grunt of frustration and go back through the few interviews I was able to get through this morning. All neighbors and all pretty much saying very similar things. Gum cracks across from me and I cringe. I look up and Toussaint’s looking at me. 

I raise an eyebrow at him and he says, “Ya know, what gets me about this?” 

“This what?” I ask straightening up. 

“Well, I mean we’re sitting here looking for a killer, but what’s to say this isn’t a domestic situation gone wrong. You seen that place. Pig sty. The neighborhood. Those people’d shoot you and steal your fillings just as soon as look at ya.” He pops his gum again and my eye twitches. 

Honest to God, twitches. 

I didn’t think that was possible. 

“So you’re sayin’ that because they live in a socioeconomically depressed neighborhood that it’s not worth the effort to find the person or persons responsible?” I ask coolly. 

“I’m saying that we’re spinning our wheels lookin’ for a killer that probably don’t exist,” he retorts, ignoring the tone of my voice. 

I sit back and fold my arms across my chest. “Well, we could be looking for a killer because the murder weapon wasn’t at the scene, we could be looking for a killer because there were defensive wounds on both bodies or did you miss that while you were chatting up the uniform in the tight top?” 

“One, that uni’s going out with yours truly tonight and two, defensive wounds aren’t as conclusive as you make them out,” he smirks. “Besides, which, doe eyes, your coroner friend said that they appeared to be defensive wounds not are defensive wounds. My take is the husband killed the wife then turned the knife on himself, probably all hopped up on drugs or some shit. They looked the type.” 

My blood runs cold as I quit seeing Toussaint sitting across from me but a detective from years ago that had almost said some very similar things. The fact that I hadn’t thought about Detective Doucet in ages doesn’t escape nor does the fact that that is probably one of the reasons Toussaint’s rubbed me the wrong way from day one…well besides the dyke and “n” comment. 

“And just what exactly would the type be, detective?” My jaw tightens and the pain it causes focuses me. 

His brow crinkles briefly, looking like a frustrated five year old. “The type. The neighborhood. In case you missed it, where are our city’s problems? Where do we catch the most criminals? In neighborhoods just like that with people too dumb or too fucked up to do anything about it.” 

He leans back in Nora’s chair and snorts, “Shit, Nikki, where you been your entire career. We got problems with the niggers, the white trash, immigrants and faggots. All of ‘em do nothin’ but drag good people down. Those people that lived in that house, that had that kid, they ain’t any different. They’re animals and we’re the zoo keepers.” 

Blood rushes through my ears. My face is hot and I know it’s red. The sad thing is, is I don’t even know where to start with his…his thinking. 

I stand, gather my notes and a file Charlie gave me that contain the usable crime scene photos that I want to review. I stuff the keys to June Lee in my pocket and manage to say in the calmest voice I can manage, “I need to step away. I’ll call you if I find anything.” 

I don’t bother to listen to him holler at my retreating back. Instead I head straight for the parking lot and to June. Unlocking the door, I slip behind the wheel and set my files down. Her steering wheel is hot under my palms and I savor the feeling for a brief moment before starting her up to head towards the coroner’s office. 

Traffic’s heavy for the early afternoon and I use the police placard on the visor to secure a spot in front of the building. I grab everything I need and head to Charlie’s office. Hopefully he won’t mind me crashing his party. 

I rap lightly on his open door and his head pokes up from his furiously scribbling hand. “Nikki! What a surprise. Two times in one day.” He starts to get up from his chair, but I wave him down. 

“I know, but, you wouldn’t mind if lil ole me came and sat for a spell would you?” I offer him a bright smile, something that takes effort today as I step into the office. 

“Not at all. Come sit. What’s on your mind?” he asks motioning to one of two chairs in front of his desk. 

“The horse’s ass that I’m stuck with on this case was a bit too much for my social graces. I thought I’d come down here so he couldn’t find me.” I ease into one of the chairs and cross my legs, resting the folders on my lap. “Would it be okay if I hide out for a little bit?” 

His smile is warm and genuinely charming. It reminds of Nora in a way. They pull off that unassuming charm beautifully. Except with Nora, sometimes it takes her a while to get to that point. 

“You come on and relax, or if you’re working than that frees me up to go back to transcribing my notes from my latest autopsy.” He turns his attention back to his own work and I open the file up on my lap. 

The first photo is a shot of spatter. It’s a clear shot of the television and the wall behind it. Markings in the photo give me height and individual markers give me the length of each spray of blood. 

The next one shows the husband, posterior side with indicators at the points of entry. Nothing jumps out at me so I move to the next, this one the wife. Her shirt is sliced open on the shoulder. The garment ripped and tattered so that it hangs from the assaulted skin. 

I’m about ready to flip to the next image when I see it. Barely visible amongst the other smudges of blood. A small hand print is on her shoulder. I turn to my notes and read over the description I had written down of Lance; there was no blood on him. 

No one said anything about cleaning him up and there was no blood on his clothes. 

“I’ll be right back,” I say standing and take the folders with me to hunt down our forensics analyst, Benton Faunce. 

This doesn’t feel right.   


* * *

  


I hate hold music. It seems to be the only thing I can think of right now. I’ve been bounced from Quantico, Topeka, Des Moines and now finally, hopefully, my last stop of the day, St. Louis. I’ve been tryin’ to track down Special Agent Dean Williams formally of the Pittsburgh field office. 

So far, the only thing I’ve managed to learn is that Williams either can’t seem to find a city that he likes or no one in the Bureau knows what to do with him so he’s getting passed from office to office until they find a way to run him out of the organization. 

At least that’s my take. Why would someone do that to themselves? Admittedly, I’ve traveled little. To Virginia to visit Ann and Jill, for work when the need calls for it, but never have I really felt the need to leave New Orleans. I love my city. Between the people and the food why bother leaving. You just end up in another location with different people, that are probably dumber than the ones you just left and I can guarantee that the food’s crappier. No wonder Ann fled down here. I would have too. 

The music finally kicks off and a voice says, “Williams.” 

“Agent Dean Williams?” I ask, wanting clarification. 

“You’re talking to him. Who’s this?” he asks. 

“Detective Nora Delaney of the New Orleans Police. I’ve been trying to track you down most of this morning. Agent Williams, you are a hard man to get a hold of.” I sit up in my chair and read over the list of questions I need to ask. 

“Well,” he laughs, “They like to move me around for some reason. What can I do for you Detective?” 

“Recently, I’ve been assigned to a joint task force with the Bureau, A.T.F. and my department in regards to a trio of brothers, the Sungs, and illegal arms…” 

“This have to do with the guns slated for destruction in Pittsburgh?” he interrupts. 

“Yep,” I answer and hear him groan. “What I’m trying to figure out is how the guns ended up in Boston and I need to know who else was involved?” I pause trying to decide on how much to divulge and who’s in earshot of my conversation. Luckily, no one is as I glance around. Deciding to go with my gut, I explain, “There’ve also been some inconsistencies that have come up that…I’m hoping you could shed some light on.” 

He clucks into the phone and says, “Ya know that stint in Pittsburgh’s caused me some grief. I’ve had other people ask, when the guns surfaced in Little Rock and Phoenix…but something tells me this is a little different. Are you at liberty to tell me what inconsistencies you’ve found?” 

“I can say a little,” I answer honestly. “The bit of digging I’ve done really doesn’t tell me anything. It’s the fact that it’s not telling me anything that’s the inconsistency.” I lean back in my chair and pick up the notes I’ve jotted down. “In your report, the guns were confiscated on a run of the mill bust. You also stated that you catalogued and your partner at the time, Justin Grant, crated and carried through on the chain of evidence.” I take a breath and just go for it, “Yours and Justin’s are the only consistent reports there. The rest vary in the number of guns collected, timing and also the number of agents that was in on the raid.” 

“That’s because the other agents with us weren’t all Bureau. Three of them were and one was on loan to us from the A.T.F.,” he says. 

“That’s not listed in any of the other reports.” I sit up and flip over the papers that were emailed to Ann. 

“Look, detective, I’m going to put this as nicely as possible and maybe you’ll get the lesson. We went in six men strong. We came out six men strong. When the guns went missing and my boss reamed me and Justin for it, we started to dig.” He pauses and I hear a chair squeak. “We dug because there were only six people that had access to the weapons before they went missing. When it came to that on-loan A.T.F. agent, the agency had no record of the guy existing. When it was brought up, Justin got shipped to Atlanta and I’ve been bounced around. Now tell me, what does that tell you?” 

Damn it. 

“And it’s exactly why we’re asking these questions,” I clip. 

He sighs and the image I have in my head is a frustrated agent sitting at a desk in a place he doesn’t really want to be at just ‘cause he was doing his job. “Give me an address.” 

I get ready to rattle off the precinct address, think better of it and give him my home instead. Talking to the guy, I’m not sure how safe it is. 

“Alright, I’ll FedEx the information I have. You’ll have it tomorrow at the latest. Now, if you’ll let me be, I have more paper cuts to get.” 

“Wait, speaking of Justin. I’ve been trying to find him. Is he still in Atlanta?” I rush out before he has a chance to hang up. 

“Last I heard from him, he left the Bureau. Was tired of the politics. Tell him I said hello if you find him. And if you do, tell him the Pirates are still a God awful team.” 

I want to ask what the hell he’s talking about but the line goes dead before that. 

Sighing, I cradle the receiver and stand. I need to talk to Ann. With Megan working the undercover portion for this task force, Ann and I are stuck manning the teams, which means that with the limited resources, it’s pretty much just Ann and me. 

I stand and grab my notes, stuff them into the messenger bag and find Ann coming from the restroom. 

“Go grab your things, I need you to come with me to run an errand,” I say. 

Her eyebrow goes up and her lips purse. Then she shrugs and does as I said. She follows me outside and to June Lee. I go to fish the keys from my pocket when I remember that Nikki has my car. 

Damn. 

“You gave Nikki your precious El Camino.” She stands next to me smiling. 

It’s a Smart Aleck smile and my only response is to stick my tongue out at her. 

“We could sign one out?” she offers. 

I scowl. Unmarked cars might as well have five-oh painted on the side. It’s why I drive my car. Easier to blend in. 

“And speaking of, what is up with that?” she demands poking my arm. 

“Up with what?” 

“You and giving June Lee over to Nikki like it’s nothing. How come you never let me drive her?” Ann nearly pouts. 

I say the first thing that pops into my head, “’Cause she’s better in bed than you.” Her mouth drops open and I grin. 

Ha! Now if I could just learn to do that with Nikki.


	5. Inopportune

Inopportune

Fleeing Charlie’s office, I take off for the steps and go up a flight, hang a right at the landing and barge through the last door on my left. I haven’t had a lot of time to get to know Benton Faunce, the man that’s responsible for developing and helping to analyze the majority of the cases the forensics team processes, but the few run-ins we’ve had have been pleasant. 

He’s smart and good natured and a little… funny – funny in the weird way not funny in the ha-ha way. Like always, when Nora and I have had to come to him, he’s working on the computer, cleaning up digital photographs or analyzing some other piece of information pulled from a scene. 

He looks up and grins as I wrap on the open door making my presence known and grins. “Detective Beaumont, what a nice surprise.” 

I smile back and say, “Well, it’s good to know that I’m liked, but Benton, I will admit to having ulterior motives.” I take the dark mocha colored hand being offered in greeting and shake it gently. 

“I suppose that’s alright,” he says, releasing my hand and offering me a stool to sit on. As I sit he asks, “Where is Detective Delaney?” 

I can’t stop the laugh that comes through and I shake my head. It seems that Nora attracts men of the African American persuasion. Between Dan and Benton then the few times we’ve been to watch Darius perform, a few of his friends have hit on her. But Benton has made his intentions quite clear. It’s really quite funny. Maybe one day she’ll tell him the reasons that she can’t. 

“Nora’s working on another case, unfortunately, but I will tell her you send your regards.” I grin at him and he ducks his head. 

Men are really so easy. 

“Now, on to my ulterior motives,” I say and set the file on the lab table. “I was reviewing the photos from that double homicide, the Heidecker case.” 

“Did you find something?” he perks up now, a light coming into his eyes. “I haven’t had time to go through the photos and do the analysis on the spatter patterns. I’ve been swamped with a case in trial and the district attorney is being a son of a bear about it. It was next on my stack though.” 

“Well, I don’t really know which is why I’m here.” I pull the photograph from the stack and hand it to him. Pointing out the hand print, I ask, “Can you zoom in on this and confirm what I think it is?” 

“Depends on what you think it is?” 

“A hand print. A child’s.” My face sours with the need to understand. 

“We can blow it up. What’s the case number?” he asks rolling over to a different keyboard and monitor. 

“Thirteen dash seven-sixty-four.” 

He nods and types in the numbers. A file with thumbnail photographs pops up and he looks at the photo I handed him. Selecting the corresponding file, he opens it and the image is blown up on the screen. I stand and look over his shoulder as he zooms in on the image. 

He hems and haws a second before saying, “I would confirm with Charlie, but that looks like a hand print to me. Do you have the rest of the photos?” 

“I do,” I answer. 

“Can I see them a minute?” he asks, spinning around and going to a board that holds another set of photos and begins taking them down. 

I hand him my file and he begins putting up the photos. I watch as the crime scene is recreated before us. 

“Here’s what gets me,” he says and I’m not sure if he’s talking more to himself or to me, but I offer an encouraging sound before he continues, “All of those stupid C.S.I. shows or NCIS or whatever they’ve got on TV now are just pretty damn funny. What government agency, barring one or two units at the F.B.I., has the money to spend on equipment like that? Besides which half of it is bunk science anyhow, then to top it off, you get lab geeks, and yes I know I’m a lab geek out there with guns running people down…I mean really, what world are they living in?” 

His hands go to his hips and he shakes his head looking over the collage. “You know what would happen if you gave our forensics unit guns? They’d shoot their toes off.” 

I snort and chuckle at his accurate interpretation of what exactly would happen. Honestly, that always gets me too. There’s a reason why the department is broken up into Units. 

“Hmmm,” he hums and goes to squint at a few photos. Turning away from the board he goes to his computer, pulls up the digital copies of the photos, selects a few and drops them into a new window. 

Admittedly, some computer stuff is lost on me. This is one of them. 

“Alright, this is going to take me some time,” he says. 

“What?” 

“I want to do a three-d model of the scene. I would do it anyhow so are you going to be around later today?” He finally turns to look at me and I see the cogs in his head turning. 

“I’ll be around all day today. I know you hate to say anything not confirmed, but Benton, you think you could tell me what you see?” 

He sighs and runs a hand over the top of his head. “Alright,” he finally says standing and going back to the photos. Pointing at two he indicates the spatter against the walls. “If you look here and here. The spatter patterns indicate that the attack responsible for this set of blood drops was fast, mean. These here,” he indicates a large section of the wall where blood sprays cover over a third of it, “are what we call medium velocity spatter, this tells me that the blood was traveling at a velocity of a between five to twenty-five feet per second.” 

He then moves to the other photographs and points to another area of spatter. “These patterns here are not medium velocity. These are low velocity sprays which travel at a free fall rate to a max of five feet per second.” 

“And you can tell this how?” I ask. 

“Medium velocity spatter has a diameter of less than three millimeters per drop, but usually no less than one. You also have to be able to identify the difference between the originating spatter, splatter and cast off. Low velocity spatter has a diameter of three millimeters per drop or greater,” he answers. 

Still not seeing the big deal, “And…?” I ask. 

He gives a short laugh and shakes his head. “And…what this tells me is that whoever the killer is took their time after they gave the first few strikes. Looking at the bodies, I think it’s safe to assume the weapon used was a knife. So if you look at the woman, she was stabbed in the neck, hitting the jugular vein. Now, I need to confirm with Charlie but just from a cursory glance and the trajectory of the spatter patterns, my bet is that the killer hit the neck first. That would have been enough to issue a killing blow. 

Now, here’s the thing. That first strike, if I’m right, is where the medium velocity spatter comes from. The other,” he points to another photo and the spatter, “came with the other strikes, but it also came at a lower velocity. Meaning, less force was used to deliver the other wounds, less rage.” 

I chew on my lower lip, putting together what he said, trying to recreate the scene in my mind. “So, the first blow was vicious. The rest were, what, slower…” my mouth falls open a little as his implications sink in, “The rest of the blows were deliberate and playful.” 

“Exactly,” he says grinning at me. Becoming a little more excited at my insight he continues, “Also, given the elongation of the patterns and the tails of the spatter, the blood that trails behind the main drop, the lines here” he says pointing to the tails on a few drops, “I can tell you with sufficient accuracy the convergence point…” 

“Refresh my memory again, darlin’. As you know Nora’s the one that gets this a bit better than me.” 

“Right, the convergence point just gives me the location of the origination of the spatter. So where the victim was standing which will also give me the height of the attacker.” He rocks back on his heels and stuffs his hands in his pockets raising his eyebrows at me. 

“Okay I’ll bite, how tall do you think the attacker was?” I inquire, feeling the knot in my tummy clench a little more. 

“Four and a half to five feet tall. Charlie’s autopsy will actually provide the definitive answer given the angle of the stab wounds but your victims were either attacked by a little person or the killer was kneeling.”   


* * *

  


I drum my fingers along the glass of the display case waiting for the sales lady to bring my order from the back. I look over at Ann eyeing up one of the cases, a ring case and smirk. I would like to get out of here and grab some lunch. I would have liked to do that with Nikki, but when I called her she was out with her temporary partner chasing down a lead. 

“Ms. Delaney,” Mary, the lady that’s helped me over the past three weeks, comes from the back holding a small shopping bag. “Here you are.” 

I smile and take the bag from her, saying, “Thank you.” 

“Was there anything else that I can do for you?” Mary smiles at me and my mouth twitches into a smile. She’s got the look on her that says she wants a bigger commission. 

She’s been pleasant enough so I turn to ask Ann, “Do you see anything you like?” 

Ann looks at me and shrugs. “Meh, Jill’s birthday’s already past but Christmas is coming up.” 

I go over and look at the rings she was browsing. All of them platinum with very few diamonds. 

“She hates gold and she’s not big on diamonds, but she likes other gem stones. They have a sapphire ring that I think she’d like.” Ann chews her lip nervously. 

“Which one?” I inquire. She points to a delicate ring that looks like vines with small flowers on it. The centers of the flowers are where the sapphires set. It’s pretty and very much Jill. “You should get it.” 

Her eyebrow arcs at the firmness in my tone. “Just like that?” 

I nod. “Yep. She’ll love it. Go with your gut, Flemming.” I wink at her and she grins. “Mary, my friend here would like to look at this ring.” 

She scurries over and helps Ann with her purchase. We both of walk out of Le Cœur, slightly lighter in the pocket than when we went in, but personally, it was very much worth it. 

Ann seems pleased with the overall purchase. Now the question is will she be able to wait until Christmas to give the present to her wife or will she cave, like she usually does and only wait a few days. 

We slide into the grey Police Interceptor that I’ve signed out for the day when my phone rings. I don’t bother reading the display before I answer, “Delaney.” 

“Nora, dear,” my mother’s voice sounds in my ear. 

Shit. 

“Hi mom,” I chirp at her. It’s not like I dislike my mother. I actually lover her. She’s an amazing woman, but she also has the ability to get on every single nerve I have and push my buttons in a way that is unrivaled, even by Nikki. 

“How are you, honey?” she asks. 

“Good. Busy actually, big case. What can I do for you?” I ask wanting to keep the conversation as short as possible. 

“Oh well, shoot. I was hopin’ I could talk you into family supper this Sunday,” she says, sounding slightly disappointed. 

“That wouldn’t be bad, but I don’t know when this will be wrapped up. I’ve got federal agents here with me on the case; actually, do you remember Ann?” 

“The brunette girl you went through the academy with?” Leave it to my mom for that to be the only thing she remembers. I didn’t bring Ann around much, but often enough that my mother should remember her a bit better. 

“That’s the one. She’s working on the case with me so I just don’t think it will be possible for me to get away.” I sigh and Ann gives me a look. 

“Well, then, I guess we could do it another time. Although if you want, why don’t you bring her along. It’s been ages since I saw her,” my mother pushes. 

“Ma, I just don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Trying to dissuade her is near impossible, but one can hope. 

“Nonsense. You should bring her,” she states. 

“Seriously, I don’t think we’ll have the time,” I put enough force behind my words that I know she’ll back off. 

“Well then, why don’t you come the following Sunday. Bring Dan.” …Or maybe not. 

Shit. 

“Mom,” I warn, “Dan was my partner and now he’s my boss. Dan and I were not, are not and will not ever be anything more than colleagues.” 

“Hi, Mrs. Delaney!” Ann shouts next to me. 

“OH! Is that Ann, Nora put her on please,” my mom coos. 

Well fuck. 

I pass the phone off as Ann and my mother start talking. I tune out the conversation and begin thumping my head on the steering wheel. Like I need this. 

I stop beating myself up when I hear Ann say, “Yeah, sure. We can probably swing by tomorrow. Would that be okay?” 

My eyes grow large and I waive my hands in the universal “no” gesture, but Ann ignores me and blathers on, “Great, well I look forward to seeing you again too. Bye Mrs. Delaney.” 

I groan as Ann closes my phone and hands it back to me. 

“You couldn’t a just told her no?” I whine. 

She makes a face at me and scowls. “Ya know Nor, I’m usually pretty quiet when it comes to you and your family. I get it, we all got baggage, but do me a favor and take it from someone who knows what it’s like to not have a mom around and can spot a good one, cut her some slack. Maybe if you loosen up and let her in, you’ll see that she does love you. That maybe just maybe you could let her in as much as she deserves.” 

I huff, turn the motor over and head back to the station. 

“So, Williams said he’d send his file over?” she asks trying to change the topic. 

“Yeah,” I say letting her. “I don’t know how well this is going to end Ann.” 

I see her shrug out of the corner of my eye. “It could end a bunch of different ways. I know we’re going neck deep into something.” 

“And it’s dangerous,” I interrupt. 

“Yeah it is. But if there is a dirty agent somewhere in the mix, we need to find them and neutralize.” 

“We could actually see this thing through to the drop date,” I venture. 

“Yeah, and then what? My guess is the bust goes south. Unless we finger the dirty agent.” 

“If there is a dirty agent,” I say, playing Devil’s Advocate. “What else could it be?” she presses. 

I shrug and turn into an open space in front of the station. “Dunno, someone impersonating an officer. From what Williams said, the A.T.F. had no records of the guy that he was working with.” 

She turns to me and rests her back against the passenger side door as we idle. “Well then it could be that Williams is making it all up and it was him or his partner, Maddow.” 

I shake my head. “While it isn’t impossible. I don’t think so. The guy was solid.” 

“You know all of this by a phone call?” she asks. 

“I know people. I don’t need to see a face to know if someone’s blowing smoke or not. This guy, he was…as honest as I think he could be. I think maybe they jerked him around more than what he let on, but…” 

“So then that leaves us with someone impersonating a federal officer or a dirty federal officer.” Her nose scrunches in disgust at either possibility. “So that leaves us where?” 

“Well, if we don’t die during the drop, we’ll need a strong case to take to any prosecutor. If not actual death, career suicide’s always an option,” my tone at best glib. 

“Uh-huh,” she moans getting out of the car. I follow her and she looks at me over the hood of the car and exclaims, “We are soooo fucked!” 

Silently, I agree.   


* * *

  


Armstrong Elementary comes into view and I pull in front by the office. After spending the second half of my day interviewing a few more neighbors and re-interviewing another two I’m exhausted, but there really isn’t much that can be done about it. My only saving grace this afternoon has been a rather subdued Toussaint. 

Perhaps my hasty departure took the wind from his sails. 

At least one can hope as it seems to spring eternal and all that other nonsense. 

I’ve only filled him in on the barest of details Benton and Charlie shared. I’m not sure it would do much good. Considering his views, I doubt he’d care much anyhow. 

It’s frustrating sometimes, being a cop. More than I ever really thought possible. There are days when you feel like you can save the world. Especially when Nora and I clear a particularly hard case and the family is thankful. It does so much. It helps them heal. It helps us know that we’re doing something to make a difference and until recently, I never considered the impact it would have on their confidence of the police. I know it helps there too. 

But cops like Toussaint, Doucet and others that are actually few and far between, but still manage to do more damage than they know. It takes one bad experience with a cop for people to think that we’re all like that. 

Sighing, I shake my head and exit the car, following Toussaint up to the offices. 

We step inside and a young girl, maybe twenty, smiles at us and says, “Can I help you?” 

“Hi,” Toussaint smiles back, laying on the charm. His idea of charm reminds me of a girl I met while traveling. Slick, slimy, smarmy and the sad part is that it actually worked on quite a few people. “I’m Detective Michael Toussaint and this is Detective Nikki Beaumont. We need to speak with the teacher of Lance Heidecker.” 

Her smile falters as she fusses, “That poor little guy. We heard what happened around here. The grandmother called. I guess she has him now.” I watch as she types a few things in the computer that sits to our right. 

“We wouldn’t know where the child was placed. We’re actually just following up. Child Services handles all of that,” Toussaint answers. 

The young woman takes a Post-It and scribbles something down “Well, Lance’s teacher is Ms. Katy Sillman. She’s on the first floor here. Second grade, room one-oh-nine.” She passes the note to Toussaint and smiles at us. 

I resist the roll of my eyes and follow him out of the office door and down the hallway. 

He whistles loudly and flicks the note in his hand. “Name and phone number, how about that, Beaumont.” 

Oh, eww. Just eww. I understand that my perspective is, shall we say skewed, but honestly, why are straight women so dumb? Not saying I haven’t met my share of lesbians who put up with too much crap from their partner, but I can honestly say, on average, heterosexual women are far more likely to put up with unnecessary crap from men just because they think that it’s okay for the man to do whatever. Whatever the what maybe. 

I will stand firmly behind what Erica used to say, “No piece of ass is usually worth that much trouble.” 

I get that sometimes it’s more than just a “piece of ass” and emotions tend to muddy the waters, but on the whole, it’s a valid statement. 

We stop in front of room one-oh-nine and Toussaint raps lightly. A soft, “Come in,” is heard so we enter. The class isn’t’ huge. Could probably sit about thirty kids, but Ms. Sillman has the place decorated nicely. Colorful. Lots of arts and crafts mixed in with the basics of mathematics. 

“Yes?” a woman maybe twenty-five years old stands from behind her desk and looks us over. 

I size her up myself, five-foot-seven, Nora’s height, shoulder length light brown hair and green eyes that reflect mostly kindness and a hint of suspicion stare back at me. Round curves beneath tan slacks and a blue blouse tell me that she’s not in fantastic shape, but she carries the air of someone comfortable with herself and body. She’s pretty. 

“Hi, Ms. Sillman. I’m Detective Toussaint and this is Detective Beaumont. We’re here to talk about Lance Heidecker.” 

“Oh, my,” she sits back down and indicates two seats to her right to bring in front of her desk. “Of course. What can I do for you?” 

After situating ourselves, Toussaint takes point and I observe. “Well, we were just wanting to get a better understanding of his home life.” 

“Ah, I see,” she clucks, leans down and pulls a file from her drawer. “I’m not really sure how much of this to share. I mean the most I have is speculation.” 

“Well, Lance is your student. Next to his mom and dad you had the most interaction with him,” Toussaint pacifies. 

“It’s just…I mean I only suspected and there was never really enough to go to Children Services about,” she bemoans. “I mean when do you raise the red flag and what if you’re wrong?” 

We both nod encouragingly and she carries on. “Lance is a quiet kid, ya know. Shy. No friends to speak of. Most of the children usually find someone to bond with. Find a playmate, but not Lance. That alone was enough to pique my curiosity.” 

She opens up the file and removes some drawings. “Then about four months ago, right before summer break and we started second grade, because I’ve had him since he was in first, I’d notice little things, red marks, a few bruises. Nothin’ one could really do much about. Especially if I asked what happened. It was always ‘I fell, Ms. Sillman or some other cop out.” 

She sighs and shakes her head. “When we came back from summer break and we started back to our arts and crafts hour Tuesdays and Thursdays, I really became concerned. I even let the principal know, but I was never told if he followed up on anything.” 

She hands over two drawings. One to Toussaint and one to me. I look over the offered image and internally cringe. It’s nothing bloody or even what I would call disturbing. What it speaks of is child not too happy. 

“See,” she explains, “developmentally, most eight or nine year olds will draw their family, pets, maybe cartoon characters or things that interest them, that cause them joy. Lance didn’t. At least he hasn’t. No real color except the red’s and blues you see there. All the rest in black and grey.” 

The picture I’m holding is of the woods, black trunks and black leaves. The only speck of color is a red circle on one of the trunks. The red wax clings to the construction paper, thick and dark. 

I hand over the drawing and Toussaint asked, “Was there anything else? Besides the marks and the drawings?” 

Her lips turn down in a frown and she shakes her head. “Those are enough. At least for me. Now with his parents being gone…I’m just besides myself. I don’t think he had a happy home, but no one deserves to lose their parents at such a young age.” 

“Indeed, indeed,” Toussaint agrees. 

Prick.   


* * *

  


I glance down at my watch as I step into S.C.U.’s bull pen. Miraculously, the place is quiet. A few detectives milling about, but it seems subdued. I figure at least we can thank God for small favors. 

The one person I want to see though isn’t at her desk. I frown and spot Georgia coming from the copy room. “Georgia!” I holler for her. 

Her head snaps up from the paper in her hand and she grins. I cross the room quickly and ask, “You ain’t by chance seen my partner around here have you?” 

She smiles and says, “Actually, I think she and Toussaint are in Interview Two making a mess of the space with their case.” 

“Thanks,” is all I offer as I turn heel and head in the direction of the interview rooms. 

It’s ten past seven; I’m tired and more than cranky. Pausing at the door I overhear Toussaint talking. Nikki said that she didn’t like him, that was all she said and that she’d be happy when we went back to the status quo. I agreed. Working with Ann’s actually pretty fun. We mesh that way, but… I work best with Nikki. Ann and I are a lot alike, especially about a case. 

In short, there’s not enough balance. 

With Nikki, the best thing is that we do approach things differently. She gives me the balance I need to make me a better cop. I may not ever admit it to her. At least not right now ‘cause she’d never let me hear the end of it, but maybe someday soon. 

Now Toussaint, for Nikki to say that she doesn’t like him…that tells me quite a bit. Enough to know that the guy’s a jerk. Even if I wasn’t overhearing him hit on my partner, my lover that way. I’d still know. 

Annoyed that I let his pestering carry on this long, I don’t bother knocking as I open the door and poke my head inside. “Hey,” I say smiling at my girl. 

“Hey back, there partner,” she purrs at me, smiling. 

I flick my eyes to Toussaint. His face darkens briefly before he breaks into a smile. Hmm, that doesn’t really match with what I heard. I look him in the eyes and it takes me a second, but I see everything I need to. 

The guy’s an ass. 

“You about ready?” I ask. 

She leans back and stretches her arms over her head, lacing her fingers together. “Yes actually. I would like to sleep in a normal bed,” she answers. 

“Well, don’t forget,” I say smirking, “We got that double date.” 

“Oh really?” Toussaint butts in. “Is that why you won’t go out with me? Seeing someone already?” 

I see Nikki’s jaw twitch, the anger flashing in her eyes. I wonder if this moron knows how close he’s coming to bear the full brunt of a pissed Beaumont. 

It would serve him right. 

“No, Toussaint,” Nikki says, gathering her things. “I won’t go out with you because I like to date those who have a higher I.Q. than a lobster.” 

With that, she slings her bag over her shoulder and saunters out the door. I linger for a moment and eye him. “Look, I’m gonna tell you this only once. Lay off my partner. When I get done with this task force, I’ll be partnered with her again. I don’t need you pissing her off.” 

He sucks his teeth and shrugs. “What are you gonna do about it?” 

“I’ll have your ass reassigned to meter maid.” I smile and add, “After, I tell our L.T. I caught you down in the quarter feeling up a sixteen year old.” 

I don’t bother listening for a response. Truth is I don’t care what he has to say. I’ll make good on my threat. Even if Nikki takes away his manhood in a fit. I’ll finish the job. 

I hit the stairwell and see her waiting on me. A smirk gracing her beautiful face. “What took you so long?” 

Shaking my head, I shrug. “Just friendly chit chat between colleagues.” 

“Uh-huh,” she hums. 

We stride down the stairs, to the front parking lot and over to my baby when Nikki tosses me the keys to June Lee. I gratefully slip behind the wheel, sigh when she turns over and I rev her engine. 

I make short work of the drive to my partners and before we even get inside Nikki’s apartment she’s pinned me against its door. Lips covering mine as one hand curls in my hair and the other opens the door. I can only accept the sudden assault and moan disapprovingly as she pulls back and pecks me on the nose. 

“Missed you today,” she says, shutting the door. 

“Ditto,” I mirror her sentiment and pull her towards the bedroom. I unclip my gun and badge and lay it on my night stand as she does the same with hers. “I sent Ann home with an unmarked. I think the plan was dinner and maybe a nightcap. Not sure, though. You wanna call?” 

I kick my shoes off and hop on the bed to lean against the headboard. I watch her undress, enjoying the unintentional strip tease. 

As she glances over her shoulder and unhooks her bra, I’m not as certain as I was a moment ago about the unintentional part of her getting undressed. I smirk at her and call her on it, “Tease.” 

“Hmm, yup,” she says, turning to me completely nude. I watch the sway of her hips and breasts as she saunters over to me, crawls up the bed and lays on top of me. Feeling slightly over dressed and cheated I reach for my cell. 

“Let me call Jill and Ann and see what time they want to eat.” She nods curling into me a little more. 

I dial my home and get Jill on the second ring, “Heya there lady.” 

“Nora, I have bad news,” she says. 

“What’s wrong?” I await a response while running my hands over the back of Nikki’s right shoulder. 

“It’s Ann. I don’t think we’re going to be able to make it tonight,” Jill’s sighs sounding only slightly miffed. 

“She was fine when she left the station house,” I say and switch the phone to my other ear to rub Nikki’s other shoulder. 

“Yeah she was fine when she got home too, but then, well she sorta did this mattress face plant thing and I haven’t been able to get her to stir.” 

I laugh and shake my head. Well that figures. “Ya know, it’s alright. I think an early night would do us all some good.” 

“True, I’m just afraid that you’re going to have an Ann shaped imprint in your bed when we leave,” she pouts. 

“Well maybe we can have her do the other side and make a blow up doll for you,” I joke with her. 

She snickers and says, “Hmm, that’s really not a bad idea. Then I could take her everywhere.” 

Oh, dear Lord. Why did I go there? 

“Uh-huh. Alright well on that note, I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, hon,” I say. 

“G’night Nora.” Jill disconnects and I set the phone on the stand. 

I look down at Nikki and shake my head. Well there went my plans. I watch her sleep a moment longer and then maneuver her under the covers. Standing, I quickly strip and climb back into bed to spoon her from behind. She pushes against me and mumbles “G’night, Nora. Love you.” 

I kiss her temple and drift off into a sorely needed decent night’s sleep.


	6. Inconceivable

Inconceivable

I recognize the rumble of the air conditioning unit as it kicks on. That’s what wakes me. What keeps me awake is Nora. Her touch draws random patterns over my tummy and between the valley of my breasts. She’s wearing this contemplative look that has me curious. 

So I just watch her, trying to discern what she’s thinking. What troubles her when she looks like that? I would usually assume that her thoughts aren’t as bothersome as they could be, but I know that look. I know something’s bothering her. 

She’s also so lost in thought that she doesn’t know I’m awake, that I’m watching her stare absently at my belly. 

Sunlight peeks through the parted blinds and falls across her shoulder, casting a golden hue to her lovely skin. The touch pauses so I close my eyes and go back to enjoying the feel of her with me. 

I’m still worried about this case she’s working with Ann. Neither has offered up much in terms of details. The little bit of time Nora and I have had together and I’ve asked, she just gets vague and evasive, deflecting the conversation to something else. 

Something is off with my girl, but I can’t place my finger on it. It has me in knots. 

“I know you’re awake,” she says, placing her head on my tummy, her warm breath a welcome sensation on the underside of my breasts. 

“Hmmm, and even if I am, you need not spoil my wool gathering, love,” I retort and crack an eye open to look down at her. Her frown from earlier has been replaced by a warm smile and half lidded eyes. 

As I open both eyes to look down on her, my heart tightens. She’s so beautiful. And the simple fact that I’ve let myself open up to her so much so that she could run my world asunder is not lost on me. 

If she doesn’t want to move forward with me…if she says no to moving in together it will be the first nail in our coffin. I understand her not telling her family just yet. I, myself, haven’t told my father that we’re together. He knows we’re partners at work and that’s it. I understand the need to not tell anyone at work – even those we trust. We need to tread lightly there. I don’t want to give up working with her, nor do we need the backlash for being out in a very male dominated world. 

It’s just that before we move forward, before I take her home and let my daddy know that I love her and that yes, it’s dangerous, but I’m willing to risk my career for her, I need some type of commitment from her. 

I said I don’t want to, did not say I wouldn’t. My bottom line is such that if we were forced to choose my job or Nora, I’d choose her. I just don’t know if she’d choose me… 

I need to know she’s in as deep as I am. ‘Cause if she’ll have me, I want this to be a permanent thing. Sighing, I run a hand through her hair and scratch my nails lightly across her scalp. The action garners from her a low moan and a kiss to the underside of my breast. 

“You want coffee?” she asks, sitting up. 

“Depends on if I have to get up for it or not,” I reply grinning. 

She leans down and kisses my forehead before hopping off the bed. I lift my head up and watch her slip on her robe, a small pout forming on my lips as her body is covered. She tosses over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back,” then leaves me alone in the room. 

I slump back against the bed and stare up at the ceiling. That woman will be the death of me. She is going to rip my heart out. I’m as sure of that as I am of the fact that I’m breathing. 

I loved Erica. I still do in a lot of ways. Her being taken from me…that was miserable. Not something that will ever completely heal, but I’ve come to live with that fact. 

Accepted and moved on. 

Nora is another story all together. She causes such intense emotions that they are sometimes unbearable. Yet, she’ll be worth it all if she feels for me half of what I do for her. 

I’ve never thought about the future. With Erica it was always the here and now with neither of us looking further down the road than the following week. Nora’s presence in my life has me considering it all. Not kids, unless she wants them, but my life, how I want and where I want it to be. All of it has her in it and the idea of her not there causes a mild panic attack. 

“Hey you,” she says from the doorway holding a breakfast tray in her arms, “Brooding in the morning is never a good sign. Brooding today, especially, is unacceptable.” 

I blink and feel wetness on my cheeks. Silently cursing myself I swipe at my cheeks and sit up, slapping the most genuine smile I can muster on my face. “And why is today so special?” I ask. 

She smirks and sets the tray on the bed. It holds two cups of coffee and a jewelry box from Le Cœur. I watch as she picks up the box and comes around to my side of the bed. She kneels and crooks a finger at me, beckoning me closer. 

I submit letting her kiss the corner of my mouth. I pull back to see her eyes sparkle in the morning light and she lifts the box between us. I lean back and raise an eyebrow. The lid comes open revealing two medallions. 

I lean in and run a finger over the shiny metal. 

“They’re of St. Christopher,” she explains, “you know Catholics love their saints and he’s a protector or the patron saint of protection and for travelers.” 

“And to what do I this surprise?” I ask, running my hand through her hair. 

She smiles at me, pressing into my hand and purrs, “Happy anniversary.” 

I’m a little stunned. Not to mention I feel like a bit of a heel for forgetting our first anniversary. 

She smirks at me as I blush, saying, “When you didn’t remember the anniversary of our partnership, I knew better than to expect you to remember today.” 

She turns the box around and pulls out the bracelet first. “This is yours. I…” she falters and ducks her head. Between the strands of hair that have fallen out and forward from her ponytail I see the blush in her cheeks. 

I hook a finger under her chin and pull her head up. “Don’t hide from me baby,” I plead. 

She swallows but nods. “I wasn’t expecting you Nikki and my life is…complicated. I can’t be out. I know that bugs you sometimes, but…I…well, since I wanted you to have a piece of me with you, something that you can rely on even when I’m not around, I thought you’d take this.” 

I allow her to put the bracelet around my wrist and close the clasp. I look at it and can’t help the grin. “And the necklace, Nora?” 

“For me, for us. A connection, something special between the two of us,” she says shyly. 

I cock my head to the side and pull the medallion that’s hung around her neck since I’ve known her. But my lover shrugs it off. “I think of it this way, this,” she says pinching the medal of St. Francis of Assisi between her thumb and forefinger, “is part of what made me. A relic and tradition passed on from my family.” 

She drops the necklace and raises the one in the box. “This is for me. For you and us. Something to start anew and one day something that we can pass down.” 

My mouth drops open a little and she back peddles in the cutest way, “I’m not, that is if,” she huffs, “if when, whatever.” She gives up and I cover the laugh with the back of my hand. 

She does have the cutest way about her some times. 

I lean in and kiss her, a simple kiss, something to get her to understand that I do understand. We break apart and I take the necklace she wears, pull it of and lay it on the nightstand. Gently, I remove the new one and reach around her neck to close the clasp. 

The chain is just long enough to allow the medallion to rest at the top of the cleft of her breast. I lean down and kiss it along with a patch of skin to the right. My lips travel up to the side of her neck to the corner of her mouth before our foreheads rest together. 

“I get it,” I whisper. “I love it. Love them.” 

She breathes out and nods. “Good. Nikki I know you want…us and living together is something that I want to do. I just need a bit more time.” 

I sigh myself and curse her uncanny ability to read my mind. “But you’ll give me an answer on the sooner side of the timeline?” 

She nods. It’s all I can ask for. “Don’t doubt me. Give me a little longer and just know I love you. More than I should probably, but it can’t be helped.” 

Again she seals this pledge with a kiss so heartfelt that the tears I didn’t know I cried come back. She rises up to press me against the mattress and straddle my waist. 

I wonder what time it is, but as her hands slide up my body, I remember that I couldn’t care less. If I’m late, Toussaint can take a long walk off a short pier.   


* * *

  


“Alright,” Ann barks, “if you don’t quit with the bouncing shit, I’m going to tie you to the chair.” 

I look her over and then stop my movements. Okay, I’ve been a little keyed up since my morning in bed with Nikki. I didn’t think it was that noticeable. 

I was wrong, obviously. 

Ann just smirks at me and as we continue to gather the things we need. She looks around the empty room and smirks again at me, saying, “There’s no way you could glow that much and still look as rested as you do. What gives Delaney?” 

I shrug. I mean what can I really say that won’t…well it’s not like she hasn’t seen it before so I say, “Anniversary. It was a _really_ good morning.” 

Ann’s eyes grow large as she smiles. “Ah, well then that explains it, but I swear, if you don’t put a lid on it, I’m going to be forced to do something drastic. You are way too chipper for…” her mouth pinches and her hand waves in my direction, “for it being you.” 

I stick my tongue out at her and straighten up. “You have everything you need?” 

She nods. “I talked to Diea this morning. It looks like her team’s in position…” 

“But what good does that do us here?” I want to know. 

We file out of the conference room, down to the parking lot and into the unmarked before she answers, “I don’t know, Nora. I mean thus far, we’ve got maybe an idea that there’s a rogue agent involved in this or a fake agent. The deadline on the drop is coming up and if it goes like the others, people are going to die.” 

Running a hand through my hair, I sigh in equal parts exasperation and annoyance. I chew on my lower lip and think out loud. “So then why were you and your department called into this?” I turn my head to look in her direction and qualify, “You specifically told me that what you and your team usually handle is hard to solve cases usually involving murders, serial killers or kidnappings. Gun smuggling isn’t on that list.” 

“Nope, it’s not, but with John, sometimes people ask him for favors.” She shrugs it off. “We’ve worked a few cases that fall outside the scope of the definition of our department.” 

I nod. “Clearly. And you are the only one from your department here.” 

Her eyebrow arcs and she cocks her head to the side. “Just what exactly are you getting at?” 

I crank the engine over and let it idle before voicing my thoughts, “Nothing…or look, I’m just trying to pick apart the anomalies here. Your department’s involvement is one. I mean do you ever really think about why you get called into something outside the parameters of your field?” 

Her face sours for a brief moment and she shakes her head. “No. There’s never been a need.” 

She’s never asked a question like that… 

That’s not Ann, at least not the Ann I know. 

“What about your boss?” I ask. “These favors have to come from somewhere. Have you talked to him?” 

“Yeah, he was on his way back into D.C. He’ll be landing before lunch. We can give him a call then and hopefully get a bit more background info. I don’t like it, but you’re right. It’s an oddity that may have some answers.” 

“So, where to now?” I ask, stopping at a light. 

"Honestly, I'm not jazzed about working out of the precinct. Too many eyes and ears," Ann answers. 

My fingers drum on the steering wheel and I say, "Our options then are my place or Nikki's." 

I watch my friend stare out of the windshield, trying to come to a decision. It’s not like the choices are great, but she's right. It isn't safe at the precinct. 

It's the first time I've ever really felt that way which is upsetting enough. Nikki and I are there more than our homes. 

"Alright, let's go to your place. I can sign some equipment out at the field office and set up camp in the living room," she says and turns to me with a grin. "Just means you'll be with Nikki more. Oh, and she can help keep Jill occupied some." 

Moving to the right lane to hop on the highway, I ask, “Why not just work out of the field office?” 

“Too suspicious. Besides, have you talked to a standard agent?” Ann shifts in her seat to lean against the passenger door. 

“The only F.B.I. agents I’ve worked with was on a case with Dan. The two had about as much personality as a gnat,” I say grinning. 

Ann snorts. “That’s the other reason. Most agents are way too serious. It’s like they think they’re the only ones that do important work.” She runs her hand through hair and I hop off the highway weaving through an alley to hit Press Street. “Needless to say there are very few in the Bureau that I can stand to be around for longer than ten minutes.” 

“So you went to work for them ‘cause?” I wonder. 

“If you worked with John and Luce, you’d understand. I don’t want to be anywhere else,” she states plainly. I hang a left and pull in front of the gates to the Bureau’s NOLA field office. 

Ann passes me her key card to open the gates and I stare at the building. It’s a four story, red brick rectangle that actually looks like a gigantic brick. Obviously, the architect didn’t draw on historical architecture for inspiration. 

Hell, I’ve seen projects that look better. 

Waving the card over the access point, the gates rumble and part for us to drive forward. Slipping into a visitor’s parking space, Ann unclips her seat belt and says, “Stay put, I won’t be but a few minutes. 

I give it a few minutes of her being gone with the engine off and the windows down before I decide that it really isn’t worth it. I crank the engine, roll the windows up and put the air conditioning on full blast. Sighing in relief, I take my cell phone out and look at the display. Two missed calls from Nikki. 

Why didn’t I hear my cell? 

Shrugging it off, I dial my partner and wait for her to pick up. 

“Beaumont,” she answers. I frown at the anxiety and tension I hear. What the hell does she have going on? 

“Nik, it’s me,” I answer. 

“Hey, where are you? I went to the conference room y’all have been holed up in and no one was there.” I hear chatter in the background and the distinct click of her heals before it fades away and no background noise comes through. 

“The rest of the team is needed on the sting. Ann and I have ended up working the investigative part of the investigation by our lonesome. Is everything okay?” 

She sighs and huffs. The look I know she’s wearing brings a smile unbidden to my face. It’s a pout. “I…yeah, just a little worried there for a minute. This case…” she stops and I hear someone call her name. “I’ll be there in a minute,” she tells them. “Baby, I need to go.” 

“Okay, Nikki,” I try to reassure her, “love you.” 

I hear the smile as she says, “Me too. I need to go before I break off my Mihara’s in Toussaint’s rear end.” 

I chuckle as the line goes dead, knowing that if she’s willing to break a shoe to cause this guy pain, she must be miserable. 

I watch Ann come out of the front door, loaded down with duffle bags. My eyes bulge and I scramble out of the car to help. As I reach her half way up the steps, she gratefully lets me help and we trek back to the car to stuff the five bags into the trunk. 

Ambling out of the parking lot, I head back the way we came and make the twenty minute drive to my place in fifteen. Taking liberties with my placard, I park up front, grab the bags and head up to my apartment. 

Opening the door, I hear music, heavy guitar, bass and drums fill my living room. Ann and I step around the half wall and see Jill half way turned away from us reading a book and bobbing her head along to the music. 

My friend looks at me and gently sets her bags down, bringing her index finger against her lips. I nod and follow her direction, setting the bags down. I watch as she sneaks up on her wife to get close enough to bark in her ear. 

The brunette jumps off the couch, let’s out a squeak while swatting Ann with the hardback book she has in her hands. “Damnit, Ann!” 

My friend is all giggles as she says, “Serves you right for not paying attention.” 

Jill’s hands go to her hips, causing the robe she’s wearing to raise exposing more of her long legs. I smirk and bring in the equipment to the living room. 

This causes the model to look between the two of us suspiciously. “What’s going on?” 

“Setting up camp Flemming and Delaney. We’re moving our base of operations here,” Ann answers helping me drag some of the equipment out of the bags and on to the compact folding tables I pulled out. “You remember our arrangement about work?” 

Jill’s lips purse, but she nods. 

“Good, now help us set up and earn your keep,” Ann half jokes, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Ya know, just ‘cause I helped Lee with the audio/video room at the high school you’ve been having me handle all of the tech stuff at home,” Jill pouts. 

Ann winks at her and says to me, “Just ‘cause I have the gun and badge, I’m the one that usually get’s pegged as the guy in this relationship. I call bullshit. My prissy wife gots me beat there hands down. When she’s not working, I’m lucky if I can get her out of her jammies.” 

Jill flips her wife off, saying, “You don’t want to have sex ever again?” 

I shake my head. Better to let them sort this out while I just busy myself with the set up.   


* * *

  


I glare at our A.D.A., Bernard “Bernie” Birdsall. I’m not even sure where to start with this…my jaw clenches, stifling the string of curses. I tap my foot instead and continue to glare. 

Who names their child Bernard? With a last name of Birdsall. It’s a horrible joke on alliteration that should be criminal. The name is clearly indicative of the man. At five-foot-ten-inches, a gleaming crown framed in a halo of thinning dirty blonde hair, unflattering glasses and the suit. 

Why should I even bother, I’ve seen bodies seep better colors. 

“…so you see detective, the grandmother’s being uncooperative,” he finishes. I’m not sure what the first half was, but I know what it boiled down to... 

….him covering his ass. 

Never mind the fact that I actually have a witness, if I could talk to them. Never mind that my “partner” isn’t helping matters with his bigoted remarks earlier when the maternal grandmother, Joyce Elm, brought the boy down so that we could talk or the fact that there are two dead people. 

“Look,” I say calmly, remembering that my daddy always seemed to get what he wanted from people when he was laying on the Beaumont charm. I just need to not be petulant. “I understand the situation is less than ideal, counselor.” I step into his personal space and lay a hand on his forearm. “Let me talk to him with his grandmother there. We have to anyhow legally. You and Toussaint can observe through the window and if I over step my bounds than give the door a little knock.” 

I bat my lashes at him and know I have him when he licks his lips. I watch him nod and grace him with a full smile. 

I take a deep breath and spin towards the interview room. I also try to remember why we’re here and collect myself. After the reports and the labs came back, we figured that Lance had definitely witnessed the murder, could point a finger at the killer or killers. The scenario that Benton and I mocked up seemed to be the best we have to go on. 

The only thing that seemed to make sense was that the assailant let Lance watch, cleaned him up after and then threatened him. It also explains why we really couldn’t get anything from the boy initially. 

Squaring my shoulders, I push the door open and hit one of the light switches to take down some of the harsh florescent lights. Even if we are in an interview room intended for children, the lighting in government buildings is usually God-awful. 

The grandmother looks up and gives me a hesitant smile. Her hair is thin and gray; her eyes are a dull blue, the kind of shade that reflects the beating the person behind them took. Joyce Elm has not had it easy that much is painfully clear. Now, after everything, she’s forced to bury her daughter and raise her grandchild. 

An ache in my chest throbs at her situation and I commit to doing everything I can to find the persons responsible. No one should have to bury their children. 

Looking down from the couch, I see Lance sitting playing with some Lego’s. His shaggy hair falling over his eyes. He’s wearing tattered cut off jeans and a blue and grey stripped shirt. 

“Hi, Mrs. Elm.” I smile at her in what I hope is a warm and comforting fashion. “Thank you for comin’ on down and letting me talk to Lance one more time.” 

I perch on the edge of the couch next to her and farthest away from the boy. 

“It isn’t any trouble,” her voice cracks and a tissue emerges from her shirt. “I’ve been…making arrangements for my daughter and son-in-law.” She sniffles and I nod sympathetically. 

“Would you like anything to drink? I can have someone get some coffee, water perhaps?” I offer. 

She shakes her head. “No, Y’all have a job t’do. I just,” she drops her head and voice, leaning in to me, “I jus’ didn’t like them other two is all.” 

I pat her hand and nod. “I don’t like them much either myself, but on the plus side, you get to go home soon and I’m here for another four hours.” 

She laughs lightly and nods. I look at Lance and she angles her chin that way saying, “Go on, let’s get this over with so we can go.” 

“Thank you.” I drop to my knees and move between the boy and his grandmother, resting my back against the couch. “Hi, Lance,” I say barely above a whisper, “You remember me?” 

He waits a beat, snapping a blue block in place before looking up and nodding. Then he goes back to building the…whatever it is that he’s building. I’m not sure what to do. The kid is a few years younger than I was when I lost my mother and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. 

So, I do what I would have wanted someone to do with me when my mom fell ill and we spent countless hours in hospitals. When in less than a year I watched her go from a force of nature to a huddled mass in a bed that was kissed goodbye in the predawn hours a couple of weeks before Christmas. 

I pick up a few blocks and begin building something. I snap together a base and allow the creation to take shape. Lance’s curiosity piques and he begins to help me. Snapping blocks into place to build the port side of my lopsided Lego boat. It takes us a little bit, him and I just sitting there working together. His grandmother’s forgotten and for the briefest of moments, I think he manages to forget that he’s been orphaned. That the reason he’s here is to help me solve the murder of his parents. 

He offers me a small smile, showing me how to build the deck of the boat using a green flat piece to tuck inside the hollow portion of the boat to snap into place. 

“So,” I venture, “the day we met. It was a hard day, Lance. I was hoping that you could tell me about it. I know it’s scary to think about, but it would help us.” 

He looks at me a moment, judging me in a way that only children are able to. Then he goes back to the boat to build the mast from the smaller square blocks. 

“You know, when I was little, before my mama passed away, she’d sit with me and we would make things. Drawings, crafts, coasters – whatever we wanted. On those really bad school days, she’d always know and have a little project waiting to take my mind off of it,” I share with him. 

He blinks and looks at me. “Mama didn’t like crafts much,” he says slowly. 

“Some moms don’t. What did your mom like to do?” I probe. 

He sets the boat down and folds his hands in his lap. “Other stuff. She liked the T.V. and she liked baking. She always had cookies, but,” his face grows dark for a second, “she never let me eat ‘em.” 

“My mama wouldn’t ever let me have sweets either. Maybe one or two after dinner, but most days she said no to me too.” I lean forward on the ABC carpet and lay a hand on his knee. “Lance, buddy, I need some help. I need you to tell me who hurt your mommy and daddy.” 

He looks at me in earnest, but like usual, I don’t meet his gaze. I’m afraid of what I’ll see there. How much of myself I’ll see reflected, how much sadness and disappointment will be waiting for me is too much to bear. So instead, I look at where my hand is resting, trying to find the courage to meet his eyes steady before our time today is up. 

His small hand covers mine and I marvel at the size difference. I noticed how fragile he felt that first day. So withdrawn and quiet. I close my eyes briefly, knowing that I owe him more than the barest of glances in eye contact that I’ve been giving him. 

I blink and look up at him, finally meeting his gaze head on. The dark brown eyes look nearly black. A shiver crawls up my spine, curls around the base of my neck and over my heart. What I feel in my gut is not what I was expecting when we locked eyes. 

His head tilts to the side and he shrugs, giving me an answer I was not expecting, “Daddy, he hurt mama a lot. She’s always cryin’ and bein’ mean to me. So when Daddy was hurtin’ mama, I hurt’em both.” 

I rock back. Not sure I heard that right, but the strangled gasp behind me tells me that I did indeed hear him right. 

A sharp rap on the door cuts us off and I scramble up and out.   


* * *

  


I gnaw on my lower lip as I hit the expressway. Ann and Jill are chattering on happily, but the only thing I can seem to think about is the voicemail I just picked up from Nikki. I need to get someplace quiet and alone to talk to her. 

Half tempted to hit the sirens on the car, I press the accelerator down and make it over to my childhood home in record time. It’s not like I want to head over, but I promised Ann and Ann promised my mother. 

Mama doesn’t know it yet, but she’s getting Jill as a bonus prize. 

I hit the drive way, kill the engine and escort my friends inside. A T.V. is chattering away towards the kitchen and I assume it’s the small thirteen-inch black and white that’s sat on our kitchen counter for as long as I can remember. 

“Ma?” I call out ushering the girls into the living room to take a seat. My mother’s head pops out of the doorway to the kitchen and her face lights up. A twinge of guilt pulls at my chest. 

I’m not sure what the guilt is for…cutting off my family as much as I can, not seeing my mom enough or the fact that I’ve built a small nest of lies that I’m living with and she’s suffering for it. 

I shake it off as her arms wrap around me in a tight hug. “Nora Marie, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you,” she clucks. “Now let me have a look at you.” She takes it upon herself to spin me around and swats my rear end. “You’re too skinny!” she declares and Ann and Jill snort from their positions on the couch. 

We turn to them and I say, “Ma, you remember Ann and this is my other friend, Jill. Jill this is my mom, Nancy.” 

“Hi,” Jill beams and stands, “it’s nice to meet you.” 

My mother’s a sucker for good manners and if it’s one thing Jill’s good at is playing well behaved. The three begin chatting and I excuse myself, run upstairs and hit my old room. I close the door as I press the ‘1’ for the speed dial to Nikki. 

It takes a few rings longer than normal, but she finally picks up, “Beaumont.” 

“Hi you,” I say automatically. 

“Hey, hang on a sec,” she tells me as the phone gets muffled. I’m not really sure where she’s at but I assume she’s getting somewhere where she can have a bit of privacy to talk. 

I few seconds later, she comes back, “I wanna go home.” 

“That bad?” I ask. 

“Worse than we thought,” she moans, her voice carrying a heavier tint of melancholy than it usually does with a hard case. 

“Talk to me,” I plead, sitting down on the small twin bed that’s been the same since I was ten. 

“Nor,” she swallows, the tears evident in her wavering voice, “it…we got the killer. Confessed in interrogation.” 

“Well that’s a good thing. Who’s the A.D.A.?” I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. 

“No, it’s not and Birdsall. Nora the little boy confessed. Lance, their eight year old son said he did it.” 

“What? Nikki, that…how?” is all I can seem to manage and process. 

She swallows and explains, “It started with a hand print. I went to Benton and we drew up a scenario and reenactment. The theory we were working off of was that the killer brought the parents down to level with Lance and the little boy watched. It explained a lot.” My lover’s voice goes quiet and she fills the rest in, “So we thought we’d bring Lance back to talk to him. He confessed while we were talking.” 

“Yeah, but you can’t…” I try to say. 

“We can prove it,” her statement is final and I know that she wouldn’t be telling me this if it weren’t true. 

My chest tightens and all I can think of is getting her home to take care of her. “When will you be done?” 

“Soon. Dan, he…there’s paperwork left. We’re keeping out of the rest. I’m not sure what the D.A.’s office is gonna do with it all.” 

“Alright, I’ll be there shortly. I’m at my mom’s with Jill and Ann.” I flop back on my bed, dust rising from the quilt that’s on top. 

“Your moms?” she asks. 

“Yeah, mom wanted to see Ann and Jill decided that she’d come along for the ride,” I reply. 

“Oh, I didn’t know they knew…you know it’s…never mind. I’m going to finish up the paperwork and wait for you,” she stammers. 

“See you soon, baby,” I get out before the line goes dead. 

I stare blankly up at the stuccoed ceiling, shaken by the outcome of her case. I’ve never heard her sound that bad before. I know we’ve had some tough cases, but this is the worst. 

I blink and briefly curse the A.T.F., John Malone and Ann for pulling me away from Nikki when she could so obviously use me more. 

Crap. 

Sitting up, I slip the phone back into my jeans pocket and make my way downstairs to the voices of my friends and mother. I hit the landing and stop at the sight. My mother sits in my father’s old recliner talking and laughing with my two friends. 

She’s so open and warm with the two of them. The tightness in my chest increases as I think of Nikki, of one day being able to maybe bring her around so my mom can get to know her better. They only met a few times and each encounter was brief. 

“…and what about you ladies?” my mother asks. “I’ve been known to hound my daughter about her love life and I don’t know if it’s ‘cause of her career or her inability to settle down.” 

I blanche. They wouldn’t would they? They can’t… 

“Well,” Ann stammers and Jill remains silent. 

My mother takes their discomfort as something else when she jokes, “Surely two beautiful girls like you can’t be single. Who’s the lucky men?” 

Ann shakes her head and reaches a decision. “Actually Mrs. Delaney,” she swallows and I can’t move, paralyzed as the words tumble from Ann’s lips, “I’m married. Got married in Ninety-Four.” 

“Oh, how lovely, Nora never mentioned it,” my mom glows at the news. 

“Well, I got, no, well…” she scratches the back of her neck and then takes her hand to lace fingers with Jill, holding it up for my mother to see, “We, Jill and I got married in Denmark, out of the country, while she was working.” 

Silence lays heavy in the room and in the back of my mind I wonder if I went deaf. 

And somewhere between Ann’s confession and the silence I find the strength to move. I barrel the rest of the way off the landing and come to a standstill by mom. 

Ann looks at me, in an almost apologetic way, but I’m not really sure what to say or do. 

“Uh, well, isn’t that,” my mom tries to say. 

“You guys, I just got a call, need to head back to the station,” I inform them. 

“You’re always running off,” my mom huffs and stands. “I suppose it’s meant to be. I just remembered I had some errands to run. I trust you will have a good day.” My mom stiffly plants a kiss on my cheek and walks from the room. 

The other two stand and follow me out of the house as I lock the front door behind me. I don’t even know where to begin or what to say. 

The last half hour leaving me emotionally numb. 

We’re half way down the street when Jill cuts in from the backseat, “Ann Louise Flemming I can’t believe you.” 

Ann’s head pivot’s to the back as she adjust herself to be able to look at me and Jill at the same time. I cringe as Jill nearly screeches, “You know how Nora feels and you just went…” 

“Stop,” Ann’s voice is firm but soft. We stop at a red light and I look over at her. Her eyes are hard as she says, “Nora, I love you. Next to the screechy brunette in the backseat, you’re my most favorite woman on the planet.” She reaches back and grabs her wife’s hand. “But let’s be perfectly clear here. I won’t sit back, lie and not be proud of having Jill as my wife. It’s disrespectful to her, me and the bond we share.” 

The light changes and I direct my gaze back to the road. “I…we’ll talk about this later,” I say as I merge on the expressway and back to the station house and Nikki.


	7. Inferno

Inferno

Pacing the length of my girlfriend’s living room, I press the phone to my ear trying to hear Nora over the engines to the plane roaring around her. Between her putout tone and the fact that I can’t believe what I’m hearing, I’m ready to blow a gasket. 

No. 

That’s not right either. 

I’m ready to tell Ann and the F.B.I. they can take their case and stick it where the sun don’t shine. 

After the horror that was Wednesday and the less than stellar Thursday, Friday isn’t looking so hot either. At six p.m. Nora and Ann decide to call while they’re en route to the airport to leave town together. 

And she won’t tell me where! 

My jaw clenches as she sputters on the other end of the phone, “Would you just relax?” 

Would I just…what! 

I pinch the bridge of my nose, willing for patience. 

Surprise! 

It doesn’t come. 

“Nora, just how in the hell would you like me to calm down?” I spit. 

I spin just before running into the fireplace and march the other way. 

“Look, it’s not that bad. Ann and I will be home by Sunday night, Monday morning at the latest,” she says. She says that as if it’s supposed to make everything alright. 

“So you just want me to accept the fact that after the week we’ve had, you taking off to parts unknown is just acceptable?” 

Doesn’t she see? 

“Yes, yes I do. It’s our job Nikki,” she clips. 

“Oh bullshit Nora! You won’t even tell me where in the hell you’re going. As your partner at work…Hell Nora! As the woman you say you love you should tell me where you’re going.” My heel spins, digs into the carpet and I whip around. 

Her voice drops as she hisses, “One, if you were a civilian, I wouldn’t tell you a thing. It’s part of the job and you know it. If you were a civilian, Nikki, this conversation wouldn’t even be happening. Two, as my partner, having my back is your job. Besides you aren’t a part of this investigation and it’s safer for everyone involved that you don’t know.” 

That’s her response. I’m supposed to accept the ‘hey babe, Ann and I are flying away for the weekend to check up on a few leads, see you maybe Sunday, but probably Monday?’ 

No. 

“Nikki, we’re taxiing. Stay with Jill. I’ll be home soon,” she pleads, her tone softer. 

I can’t seem to care. “Funny thing, I am at your place, detective. The woman I’m with, her wife isn’t here and neither is the girl I’m dating. It’s funny how this is working out.” I stop pacing and put my hand on my hip. “Look,” I say taking a breath realizing I’m running out of time, “You do what you need to do, but know this, Nora Marie Delaney, whatever this is, it’s far from over.” I snap my phone shut and for good measure hurl it at the brick of her fireplace. 

I watch as the phone hits right along the edge of the mantle and pieces of it go sailing in different directions. I stand there staring at the point of impact trying to make sense of the hurricane in my head. 

She just…I can’t even. 

“Nikki,” I hear my name being called and see Jill perched on the edge of the couch. Worry marring her usually upbeat features. “Come on. Come sit.” 

Relenting out of lack of options, I move to the couch and flop down next to her. I sink into the comfortable cushions and grunt. 

She leaves me alone for a minute and mirrors my horrible slouching posture. “So,” she drawls, “now that you’re phone is nonfunctional, how do you feel?” 

I tilt my head in her direction and shake my head. “How can she just…” I trail off not really knowing how she can just do that. How Nora can say that to me. She knows that I worry about her and more so now because we’re not working this investigation together. 

I want to cry, but don’t want to give Nora the satisfaction. Right now, I want to strangle her. I swear that woman elicits in me the most violent tendencies sometimes. 

What if something happens? I don’t know where she’s going. How she’s getting there and she doesn’t even have a change of clothes? 

“And another thing,” the thought comes to me stoking my fire, “How come you got to sit and talk to her mother? How come she took you to meet her mom and the only two times I have seen her is because we were ambushed at the station house?” I really don’t mean to pout. 

I think Jill knows this. I think she may even sympathize, but all she offers is a shrug as she says, “Nora is quite the quagmire. I’m just glad she isn’t mine to figure out.” 

“It’s just…I mean Ann was all chummy with her mom and then you go over and…” 

“Nikki, Nora’s mom didn’t know Ann was gay until my wife outted us that day. Nora’s mom flipped,” Jill says. 

“She what?” 

“She just got real quiet and then made some lame excuse.” Jill looks at me, sadness furrowing her brow. “I’m sorry Nikki. I’m sorry that Nora isn’t making this any easier and that you have to deal with it.” 

“But I love her,” I pout, again. 

Jill’s mouth quirks in a half smile and she tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “I know, sweetie. I know.” 

“And aren’t you worried about them two?” I need someone to commiserate with. 

Jill shakes her head and asks a question of her own, “Worried for their safety or worried about something else?” 

My mouth falls open and I’m not sure how to answer. I am worried about their safety, but… 

“Now,” she lengthens the word to its breaking point, tip toeing around her next statement, “If you’re saying we, as in you and me, should be worried about them being alone for the weekend, I’m not.” 

I wasn’t implying… 

Shit. Okay so that may be part of my anger. Damn it! 

“Nikki, Nora’s got eyes for you. You only. Yes, when everything was new with Ann, I worried a lot. But knowing Nora, getting to know her, I knew my jealousy was unfounded. And boy lemme tell you, Ann and I went rounds a few times about it.” She smirks at me and then draws an arm around my shoulder. 

I allow her to pull me in and kiss my temple. “They’ll be home soon. They’ll get here safe and sound. And our partners will not have had one illicit thought about the other.” 

I deflate under her words. 

“Now the fact that I’m the voice of reason in all of this should give you enough to worry about. I am not the voice of reason. My job is to be the spoiled, prima donna that lives up to the party hard cliché of models.” She winks at me and I can’t help the half smile that makes its way to my lips. 

Jill sighs, pats my knee and sits up. I watch as she stands and moves around the room, collecting the bits of my cell phone. 

That was actually somewhat dumb on my part, but… 

Damn my temper. 

“Nik, I know you’re upset right now,” she starts out tentatively, when I don’t bite her head off she continues, “but sweetie, you just went and shattered your primary point of contact to the blonde you’re so pissed at right now.” 

I glare at her and huff. “I know.” 

Her eyebrow rises and she says nothing more. I hear her rattle around in the kitchen as the sounds of pieces of plastic are dumped into the trashcan. 

Shit. 

Shit. 

Shit. 

She’s right and I need to fix it. 

I sigh and get up. Run a hand through my hair and take second to collect myself. She comes in holding my SIM card between her thumb and forefinger. Her bag, because she hates it when you call it a purse, is slung across her chest. 

“Let’s go get a new one and then you can vent some more, ‘kay?” she smiles at me. 

I scowl a little for good measure but she happily links our arms together and leads me out of the door and down to June Lee. 

Fuck.   


* * *

  


Blinking, I pull the phone away from ear and watch as the display blinks the words, ‘call ended’ at me. She just hung up on me. I can’t believe Nikki just hung up on me. “Did she really just hang up on me?” I ask to no one in particular. 

Ann looks over at me from her seat opposite mine. The government issued jet we’re in begins moving out to the runway and I power off my phone. Her eyebrow rises and she whistles. 

“She hung up on you?” she asks. 

I nod dumbly. 

Ann shakes her head and smirks. 

“Fuck off, Ann,” I spit and my arms fold across my chest. 

I take in the sights of the leather and mahogany cabin and can’t figure out how Ann is pulling this off. I hear a sigh and watch as Ann moves from her chair to the one right next to me. 

“What did she want me to say? I can’t...” I stop and run a hand through my hair. 

Ann and I weren’t expecting this, but the file from Williams and then a phone call with the agents in Boston; we knew we needed to take a road trip. We weren’t planning on it, but the drop is coming up and we need to be ready. 

If we can stop it, then all the better. 

“Nora,” Ann says softly, “don’t think about Nikki right now. You can make up for it later.” 

I swing my head in her direction. “Make up for what?” I almost growl. 

Her eyes grow large and she holds her hands up. “Ya know, nows not the time. Instead, let’s talk about some explanations I think I owe you considering where we’ve found ourselves.” 

We stop talking a moment as the plane lifts off the tarmac and we’re pushed back in our seats. A few minutes later, we feel the plane leveling off and the seat belt sign dings off. Ann is the first to undo hers and she motions for me to follow her actions. I oblige and she turns in the cushioned leather to face me, one leg tucked under her while the other rests on the cabin floor. 

Mirroring her position, I urge her to continue. 

“Alright, where to begin…” she trails off tapping her index finger against the tip of her nose. “Screw it. Forget it.” 

“Uh, no,” I state. 

“Yes, instead I think my story will be much more…beneficial to our current situation,” she smiles at me. That ridiculously charming smile she knows usually gets me to cave. For extra oomph, she snags my hand, laces our fingers together and swings them between us. “Please?” 

I roll my eyes, but relent, “Fine.” 

“Good. Now this happened about six months after we moved up north and I just started at the Bureau. There was this nasty case John and Luce were working. They were the ones I started with. It was a joint investigation with the N.S.A. and everything was ‘need to know’ only. The funny thing with John is that he and his team, Lucy and I, are always on full disclosure. The thing is is that it required us to leave the country.” 

I look at her and cock my head to the side. Just where is she going with this? 

“Give it a second. I have a point,” she says grinning. “See, because of the high security risks. I couldn’t tell anyone where we were going.” 

“You couldn’t tell Jill,” I say realization dawning. 

“Exactly. You know Jill. If we don’t talk at least once a day when I’m away or she’s away, there’s hell to pay on my end. The trip I had to take lasted a week. Black out. No contact.” My friend shakes her head and sighs. “It was necessary. I’m glad she didn’t know, doesn’t know still. But that was the icing on the cake of our first six months, Nor.” 

She looks away from me and her eyes lose focus as she continues, “Honestly, that first year, I didn’t think we’d make it. She was so mad after that trip. The fights were…I’m sure if you ask John real nice, he’ll tell you about the one we had at Quantico. I still think agents talk about it whenever they see me walking around.” Her gaze comes back up to me as she says, “We worked through it. It was hard. But Jill and I were able to reconcile that my job would do that to us from time to time. I also had to come to terms with her work taking her away. She went on this shoot for over a week where there was no cell or satellite service.” 

She snorts, shaking her head. “It bit hard when the shoe was on the other foot. I about had a conniption when her manager called me to tell me she’d been sick and taken to the airport her last day there.” 

“Why are you…” I try to ask. 

“Because you need to understand,” she interrupts, “Just because we can’t say where we’re going. Just because I can’t tell Jill everything, we’ve been together long enough to work through it. Find ways to deal with our emotions and get passed it. You and Nikki haven’t, Nora. And when it’s you being left out of the loop because of a case she’s working, you’re asinine response to her question’s going to come back and bite you in the ass.” 

“There won’t…” 

“You don’t know that, Nora. Moreover, stupid shit like you just said will drive a wedge between you two quicker than you can blink.” She squeezes my knee and leaves her hand there as she says, “I’ve seen you together. I know you and I’ve gotten to know her. If she left you, would you be able to handle it?” 

I look away from her steady gaze, knowing the answer to that question. 

Her hand slips from my knee and I look up. Her face is pinched, pensive almost. “Just sort it out when we get back. Get her pissed at me if you need to. I’ll take one for the team,” she jokes, winking at me. “Now on to more pressing issues.” 

“We have more pressing issues?” I wonder. 

“Duh, Delaney. Think about it. You, me, Boston and the agents there then on to Houston and the agents there,” she chides. 

Oh, right. The reason why I’m thinking I’m this biggest asshole on the planet right now. The need to get direct reports from the agents. The trip that John, Ann and I thought was a good idea a little over an hour ago. 

Crap. 

I look around again. This time noticing the small things on the plane and how, while I’ve never ridden in a federal jet before, this still seems posh by comparison. “Ann, how exactly did we manage a jet?” 

She laughs and her smile soothes me a little more than it should. Maybe it’s her confidence in me that’s so apparent. I can’t be sure and I’d rather not think about why and focus more on what it is and what we can do to end this case. 

“Uh, department perk,” she says slyly. 

“And just what else are the perks in your job? And ya know, while we’re at it, who the hell is John and what do you guys really do?” I ask. 

“Do you want the long answer or the short answer?” she offers. 

“Can I get something in-between?” I answer. 

“Yeah, that can be arranged.” She settles back against the armrest and drapes the foot that was planted on the floor across my lap. “John is ex military. Worked for the Department of Defense and the C.I.A. Since the mid to late 80’s he’s been working first as a cop out of New York City and a few other departments through this program until finally settling in as the director of S.I. at the Bureau. For longer than he’s been a cop, he’s been a consultant…” She pauses, her mouth pinching before continuing, “Consultants not the right word. Advisor would be better for his work with the differing presidential cabinets.” 

Uh…well. Not really what I was expecting. 

“Because of his position and influence, he gets a small division inside the F.B.I. to run his own investigations in the areas of his choosing. We aren’t relegated to murders or kidnappings. We do different things as the needs arise, although because of the team’s specialties, me and profiling and Lucy’s fantastic with computers, we do find ourselves with more homicides than anything else.” 

“Uh-huh,” I manage. “Does Jill know any of this?” 

Ann nods. “Jill knows more than she should. And I’ve told you a lot already.” 

I shake my head and lean back, letting it bounce off the plastic of the cabin. I don’t think I want to know anymore. “So, we’re good. I don’t wanna know anymore.” I tilt my head forward and look at her, asking as I change the subject, “Let’s focus on the interviews we need to do.”   


* * *

  


The club was loud for a Friday night. The live band playing rock covers and the crowd that had gathered in front of the stage was dancing and singing along happily. I, on the other hand, I was slouched against a back corner booth nursing my…I looked at the table top and counted the glasses…sixth glass of scotch. 

Jill hummed the tune of the song being played, although I don’t know what it is. “Jill,” I say, proud that I’m slurring only slightly, “Who’s this?” 

She swings her pretty, brown haired head to me and answers without pause, “It’s a cover of Godsmack’s Awake.” 

My nose scrunches up as I try to figure out what a Godsmack is. 

Instead, I go back to the picture I had tucked in my purse. A candid shot of Nora and I dancing with each other on the floor not located thirty feet from me. Sighing, I swipe at the tear that managed to escape. 

Crap. 

“You need to stop,” the voice a hot puff of air against my ear. I turn to look at Jill who’s scooted closer and is resting against my right side. “We were supposed to come, get shit faced and enjoy a night of gayety, pun intended, while forgetting about our frustrating lesser halves.” 

“How do you do it?” I ask bluntly. I’m not sure if it’s the raw emotional state I’ve found myself in or the alcohol that’s taken away my usual tact. 

Her brow furrows and she asks, “Do what? It? Like sex?” 

I snort and swat her shoulder. “No, you…you something that is consistently thinking of sex.” 

“Hey, I think of sex the average amount for a woman my age. But you didn’t clarify. Do what?” 

I roll my eyes and clarify for her, “Deal with not knowing whether Ann is safe. What if something happens?” 

Her features soften and she leans her head against my shoulder, sipping at the fruity cocktail that’s been in her hand for the past thirty minutes. “Honestly,” she sits up and looks at me, “you sure you wanna hear this?” 

I nod and she sets her drink down. “It was really hard. It still is. I used to not think about it. The fact that she’s been in some very scary situations. It was safer for me not to because I didn’t know how I would handle it.” 

“Didn’t?” I finish off the rest of my scotch and look around for the server. Spotting her, I hold up my glass and give it a little wave. She nods and I watch her disappear into the sea of people. 

“About, it’s been seven years now, it was her first injury.” She slurps up the rest of her drink before going on, “John, Ann’s boss, sweet guy, called me. Said that Ann had been hurt and there was going to be a car there in five minutes to bring me to the helipad at the local hospital to catch a chopper to D.C.” 

I lean back, resting my head on the bench wall behind me and listen to her. 

“I was so freaked. By the time I got to the hospital, I had been through every worst case scenario, but it wasn’t as bad as all that.” She smiles at me and then looks down at her hand. Her wedding ring glints a little in the light. It’s not lavish, a simple single solitary diamond and the platinum band to match. She and her wife have the exact same ring set. “She’d just sprained her ankle. Chased someone down twenty flights of steps and leapt to catch them the last leg of it.” 

That sounds like Ann. 

“Anyway, it was a concussion and a sprained ankle. I threw a conniption. Full on water works and drama.” She blushes at the admission, but continues, “After that, I was pretty obsessive, calling all the time while she was working. Made her crazy. Drove me crazy too. Then we had enough. I…” she looks away again, remembering. “We split up for all of a week until we started therapy together. I was having nightmares and she was a wreck. We got through it though.” 

“But,” I slur a little less and straighten up, “how do you do it now?” 

She shrugs. “We talk. We talk a lot and when she can’t tell me things, I have to learn to accept it. I trust her. I trust the people she works with. That has to be good enough.” 

That’s it? My brain muddles through trying to see light at the end of the tunnel and coming out of it being able to say what Jill says. I can’t. 

Her hand covers mine and she squeezes, “Baby, you can’t control it. You worry about what you can, not what you can’t.” 

I manage a small snicker. “That’s your sage advice? Worry about what I can control and not about the other?” 

“Yeah,” she smiles at me. “It’s the only thing that’s gonna keep you sane.” 

I don’t think I can. 

I worry about her when we’re working together. With her out there with someone else, I can’t not think about it. It’s the only thing that’s been a consistent presence in my mind over the past few hours. 

I pull the new phone I got from my pocket and look at the display. No missed calls. 

“Hey,” Cassie says sliding in the booth to sandwich me between her and Jill. “Gorgeous, long time no see!” Casey beams at Jill and I look at Jill who blushes. 

“Hi Casey,” Jill says, leaning over me to plant a wet kiss on her friends lips. Pulling back, Casey’s all grin and Jill giggles. 

“And Nikki.” The bartender turns to me and rattles a rock glass full of amber liquid in front of me. “I’d ask where Ann and Nora are, but,” she looks pointedly at the table top, “I don’t think I need to.” She leans in and pecks me on the cheek. “This is your last one detective.” 

I frown as I accept the glass. “That’s not fair,” I whine. 

Casey just smirks. “Tough cookies, toots.” 

I roll my eyes and Jill giggles again by my right side. 

“So, would anyone like to tell me where Laverne and Shirley are at?” Casey asks. 

I look at Jill and motion for her to go ahead and fill Casey in. “Ann and Nora are off gallivanting around the country while Nikki and I are stuck here.” 

“Uh-huh, and Nikki is there a reason why you look like you lost your puppy and your girlfriend all in one fell swoop?” The bartender gently shoulders into me. 

“Fight,” is what I offer as Casey tisks. 

“You done for the night Cas?” Jill leans around me and smiles at her friend. 

“Yep. Figured I’d come and see what was happening. Your waitress thinks that Nikki’s trying to drink us out of Scotch.” Casey pushes me closer to Jill and slings an arm across the back of my shoulders. “But considering the state of our friend here, I think that’s not a horrible idea.” 

“Nora really is being an ass,” Jill offers in way of support. 

“Nora,” Casey drawls, “is more stubborn than anyone has the right to be. It’s why we love her.” 

I swing my head at the easy admission and Casey notices. 

She smirks. It’s an evil smirk that would be evil and cute if I wasn’t jealous. 

“Easy there tiger. I love her, never was stupid enough to fall in love with her.” She winks at me and I groan. 

She’s got me there. 

“But, if you,” she points to Jill, “are going to allow your wife’s ex-girlfriend’s girlfriend to sit here and wallow, I suggest you have some fun while doing it.” Casey stands and drags me up with her. 

I look her over in her low-slung tight fitting jeans and a tank top. She comes to my nose and her chestnut colored hair is streaked with blue. 

“We need to dance,” she states and nods her head for emphasis. 

I feel Jill come up behind me and pinning me between the two women. They drag me to the dance floor and I know this is just a bad idea.   


* * *

  


As the cabin light warning us to fasten our seatbelts dings off, the one steward that’s been on this flight comes up and says, “Agent Flemming, I have Director Maddow on line one. he would like to conference with you and Detective Delaney.” 

Ann and I unbuckle our belts and follow the woman around our seats to a small work area. Ann and I sit next to each other and begin sorting through the files that we grabbed from Kyle Landry, the agent we met in Boston. 

We both look up as John’s voice comes through the cabin speaker. “Ann, Nora good evening.” The guy sounds way too awake for two in the morning. 

Ann laughs a little and says, “Yes, old man?” 

“Wanted to touch base before you guys called it quits for the night,” he answers ignoring the old man comment. 

Ann shakes her head and he says, “I don’t need to see you Ann. Quit shaking your head and making that face. You worry about you. I’ll worry about me.” 

I sit back and listen to the banter enjoying Ann’s frustration. 

“Look, if it were a once in a while thing, John, I would leave it alone, but really, when’s the last time you saw a bed?” She shuffles a few more papers and pulls up the notes we were putting together before we got to the airport. “But if you want to not sleep for days on end, drive yourself crazy and we’ll make this call quick. I’d like my two hours before we get to Houston.” 

I hear him laugh as the click of a computer keyboard sounds. “Good. Now that we’ve established that I don’t give in to petty needs like sleep, tell me what you guys found out.” 

Ann looks at me and nods. I take the hint and start speaking, “Landry confirmed the set up in Boston was similar to what Williams had set up in Pittsburgh.” 

“The rogue agent theory?” he asks. 

“Yeah. Landry wasn’t as…persistent as Williams which is why we think Landry’s still in Boston, but someone is getting their asses covered up by someone above the standard field agents pay grade.” 

“We have no idea what the agent looks like, but it’s the consistent thread between Williams’ and Landry’s stories. I think Houston will have something similar and John, I’d bet you a month of Starbucks that if we went to the other agents, the primaries at least, they would say similar things.” Ann points to the Williams file and I pick it up and grab the sheet with questions we scribbled on it. 

“John, where are you right now?” Ann queries. 

“In New Orleans. I wanted to be here for the raid so I came straight from my debriefing with the Secretary. Why?” 

“I want you to do a little leg work. Put together headshots of every agent we have working this case and send me a fake mug shot book.” 

“What are you thinking Flemming?” he huffs. 

“I’m thinking what we’re all thinking. If we can get the agent fingered, then maybe we can stop the drop, collar the Sungs and the dirty agent all in one go without the risk of endangering anymore lives,” she answers. 

I lean forward and smile at my friend. “We’re thinking that if we can do that and you can rattle some cages while we’re out of town, then it’s our best shot at stopping this before it starts,” I chime in. 

“Alright. You’ll have it by the time you land in Houston,” the man relents and then grumbles, “I was looking forward to watching a little hotel porn, but damn you Flemming.” 

My eyes bulge and Ann just laughs. “Yeah, like you do every time you’ve been up for days. You start watching porn, I’ll become a nun.” 

“And have Jill kill me. I think not.” His laughter is a little infectious, I look at Ann, and she shrugs. 

“One thing John, have you heard from Luce and the rest?” Ann asks. 

“Yeah, they’re wrapping things up. I’m sure we’ll get the final here within the next coupla days. Now, ladies, enjoy the rest of your flight and hopefully we’ll see you tomorrow evening.” John doesn’t bother waiting for our goodbyes as the speaker crackles and dies. 

Well that was interesting. 

I stretch and yawn. Ann follows suit and we shuffle back to our seats. Plopping down we look at each other and nod. I hit the button and Ann mirrors my actions. Our seats extend out flat and I push the armrest up to fill in the gap, creating a full size bed out of the seats. 

The steward swings by and offers us a few pillows and blankets. Gladly, we accept them as the cabin lights dim. Unconsciously, I find myself snuggling up with Ann. Her arm snakes behind my neck and press me into her shoulder as I lay a hand across her midsection. 

I shift trying to find the most comfortable position despite where we find ourselves, but after a few minutes still the movements. Realization washes over me and I stifle the laugh. 

She’s not Nikki. Ann and I fit together alright we always did, but she’s not my partner. Nikki and I… 

“What,” Ann whispers in the darkened cabin, “are you laughing about?” 

“Myself,” I reply in an equally hushed tone. 

“Mm-hmm,” she hums and beings scratching her blunt nails across my scalp. “Hey, Nor?” 

“Yeah,” I nearly purr. She knows how much I like that. She’s buttering me up for something. 

“I guess, well, I know that being out, ya know, on the force isn’t the best career option,” she stammers, “I just don’t know, why…how come your family doesn’t know?” 

I can’t control the automatic tensing that happens to the muscles in my back as she finally voices her question. I can’t control the pickup in my heart rate. 

“I don’t want to press or pry, but it’s something I’ve always wondered,” she mumbles. 

“I…” My lips purse. How much of this do I really want to say? How much of this do I really want deal with? 

“Nora, sweetie, if…” she starts. 

“It’s okay,” I mumble into her shoulder. “Honestly, a lot of reasons or one reason that’s all built up to make a buncha small ones.” I feel the medallion around my neck slide up and bump my chin. I take my free hand and play with it on the chain. “You remember our graduation party from the force. The one that I invited Jill and Lee to?” 

Ann snorts and says, “How could I forget. I was miserable that day. Seeing Jill and knowing what I felt for her on top of what I felt for you. Seeing her again…trust me Nora I won’t forget that day.” 

“I figured, but what you don’t know about that day is that I followed Jill. I saw you in the woods, talking,” I confess. 

“You what? Nora why didn’t you…” she stammers. 

Dropping the necklace, I press my index finger to her lips to quiet her. “Shh, lemme talk Ann. I didn’t want to. It didn’t seem right. So I walked away and ran into my father as I came out of the woods. He said two things to me that day. The first was to give me the medallion of St. Francis. The second was to inform me that he knew what you and I were and that it needed to stop.” 

I hear her sharp intake of breath. The revelation probably not what she was expecting, but I press on, “See that was the first time he mentioned it. The second was right before he died.” I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat and blink back the tears that have collected. “That conversation pretty much boiled down to his disappointment in my lifestyle. He also made me promise not to tell my mom.” 

“Nora, baby,” her voice aches and her grip tightens around me, “he had no right.” 

“Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he did.” I shrug. “But it’s what it is. I can’t after I promised him. I won’t do that to my mom ‘cause he was right. I don’t think she could handle it.” 

“I don’t…” 

“Ann, you saw her when you told her about you and Jill. She ran out of there like the Devil was on her heels,” I press. “You don’t know what it’s like to have my family.” 

“No,” she hisses, “I really don’t Nora. My mother died three years ago. I didn’t go to the funeral and I haven’t been to visit her grave. My father may or may not be out of jail or hell the bastard may be dead.” 

I cringe and kick myself for my slip up. I know better than to bring up her family. 

“Ann, I’m sorry, I didn’t,” I trip over my words trying to apologize. 

“It’s…alright. I just, I think that maybe if you came out to her it wouldn’t be that bad,” Ann relents. “I think maybe she loves you more than that for your being gay to be a factor.” 

I sigh and tighten my hold around Ann’s middle. “Nikki’s the only one that’s made me think about breaking that promise,” I confess. 

Ann lets out a bitter laugh, small and telling. “Figures.” She begins playing with my hair and the silence settles over us. 

I don’t know if that was a fair thing for me to say, but it is the truth. 

“What would have happened to us?” Ann breaks the silence. 

“Dunno, Ann. I wish…” 

“Don’t, Nora. We’re not and we’re both very much head over heels with our lovers. That was an unfair question.” Ann lets me off the hook. “What I do think is that you’re dad, regardless of intentions, was a prick for making you promise that. I may not get it, but I do love you, Nora Marie, and I will support your decision even though I think it’s a shitty one.” 

I, however, can’t let myself off the hook despite her last statement. “No it wasn’t unfair. ‘Cause you and I,” I sit up a little and look her in the eyes. “It’s what friends are supposed to do, support each other. But you and I, Ann, letting you go wasn’t the easiest thing I did.” I offer firmly. 

The surprise reflects in her eyes and I lean down, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. I resume my position and snuggle in mumbling, “Now, hush and go to sleep, we’ve got a long day,” before drifting off to sleep myself.


	8. Inconsolable

Inconsolable

Reaching my hand around, I cup the cheek of my bedmate and pull her closer to snuggle deeper into the covers. Hopefully, if I burrow deep enough, I can ignore the Michael Jackson song that’s set as my ringtone and go back to sleep. Being cuddled up with my girl sounds like the most appealing option. 

“Nikki,” a voice rasps in my ear, a voice that is not the same as my beloved’s in the early morning hours, “it’s been goin’ off for forever, pick the damn thing up.” 

The hand that was placed on the rear end of my bedmate gets snatched back and I hear the woman snort. 

I do a quick assessment of what happened last night. I remember the drinks, I remember the dancing, but I don’t remember leaving the bar. I don’t know who I left with and that causes my stomach to churn. 

A long arm reaches over me and I see the ring. 

Shit. 

Jill. 

I’m in bed with Jill. 

I watch as she unfolds the device and presses it to my ear. I rasp, “Beaumont.” 

“Nikki,” Dan says, sounding relieved. “Thank God. I’ve been calling for the last ten minutes. You had me starting to worry.” 

“Sorry,” I croak and sit up, dislodging Jill from my side as my back rests against the headboard. “Late night.” I look at the clock and see that I have another three hours before I’m due in. Him calling means… “Who died?” 

He laughs a little and says, “Thankfully, no one. I’m calling you in for a new case that came in. I need you to meet Toussaint over at Oschner.” 

Jill shifts and rolls to the other side of the bed facing the opposite direction. Good to know that she can fall back asleep so easily. Lucky her. 

“Why?” I ask. 

“I’m assigning you to a reported rape. Came in about two hours ago. I’ve been on the phone since four-thirty this morning, fielding calls,” he answers and truthfully, he sounds downright exhausted. 

I swing my legs off the mattress and sit on the edge of the bed. Quietly, I stand and make my way to the bathroom, requesting more information, “We usually don’t handle assault cases, Dan. Who’s the vic? And which one, the hospital off Jefferson or Napoleon?” 

He huffs. “Victim is Bethany Griffith. College student at Tulane. Napoleon, the one closest to the university.” 

Griffith…I turn the shower on and begin stripping out of the underwear and tank top I found myself in. Another piece of disconcerting information as I continue to wonder what happened last night. 

“Nik, did I lose you?” Dan chimes in. 

“What? No. I was just trying to figure out if I should know that name or not.” I tap my finger to my lips running through the list of society people I know. “Usually when you assign direct cases to me it’s because of who they know in the city.” 

Dan laughs lightly and says, “You may not be aware of who Griffith is. She’s not from around here. The kid’s from Washington State.” He must pick up on my lack of knowledge and supplies the rest, “Her mother’s Johanna Griffith, fifth round senator. The woman has also been notified.” 

“Ah,” I clue in. “So who does she have breathing down your neck?” 

“The Governor, the mayor and the superintendent. Just everyone that can make my life a living hell. Not to mention she is coming down here today at some point.” 

“Well, you know what they say Dan,” I chide. 

“And that would be what Nikki?” he asks. 

“It rolls down hill and you and I, my friend, are at the bottom of that hill.” I press my hip against the sink and try to figure out how this is going to play out. 

“Ain’t that the truth.” Poor Dan. I really wouldn’t want his job. 

“Alright, call Toussaint and tell him to meet me there in twenty. I need to go,” I say not waiting on a response as I close my phone, set it on the sink and hop into the steaming shower. 

I take only a brief minute to luxuriate in the hot spray of the shower, allowing it to loosen up some of the knots on my back. The rest of my cleansing ritual takes a back seat and the utilitarian in me takes hold. 

I’m out of the shower and dressed in under ten minutes. There’s barely enough light for me to make my way around the room and not bother Jill. 

I look back at my bedmate and wonder just what happened last night. It doesn’t feel like anything happened, but… 

I shake it off, feeling for my gun and badge on top of the tall dresser by Nora’s door. I need to get going. I clip my holstered gun and badge to my belt, look myself over in the mirror and decide to leave my damp hair in the ponytail it’s in. I don’t think my hair will look much better today anyhow. 

Shoes, where in the Sam Hill did I put my shoes? 

My hands go to my hips as I swivel around and survey the room. A few small piles of clothes, ones from last night presumably, pock mark the floor, but other than that the place is as usual, spotless. 

Crap. 

Sighing, I spin around and ease open the door bypassing the closed guest bedroom door and into the living room. Nora and Ann’s temporary workstation beeps softly and the whir of the fans from the computers are the only sounds in the entire apartment. 

I look towards the front door and spot my shoes from last night. I jam my foot in one boot and raise my leg to zip it up, repeating the process with the other. As I look at the end table for my keys that are thankfully sitting next to the box of tissues, I see the two small duffle bags underneath it. 

Going on a hunch and aware that I’m running out of time, I stride towards the guest bedroom’s closed door. I can’t remember if it was closed last night or not. Gently, I turn the doorknob and push the door open. 

The light from the hallway spills through, slicing the room in two. It illuminates the bed’s two occupants. My breath hitches as I take in their positions. Ann is flat on her back, one arm, bent at the elbow, tucked under her head. Her other arm is wrapped around my lover. Nora is half lying on top of her very married ex-girlfriend. I can’t see under the covers but my guess, by the way they’re laying, is that Nora and Ann’s legs are entwined. My partner’s free arm is gripping Ann’s hip. 

I shouldn’t feel the burn of jealousy. I don’t think I have anything to be worried about but seeing them like this…I blink back the tears that sting my eyes. I can’t deal with this right now. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Jill whispers behind me. 

Just as softly as I opened it, I shut the door and spin right into Jill’s arms. Her hands grip my hips and she says, “They came home last night. You were passed out. They were both exhausted and I didn’t think waking you up so that you and Nor could argue was smart.” 

I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. One hand comes up catching the tear at the corner of my eye. “I’ll have her call you when she wakes up Nikki. I promise.” The model offers me a warm, endearing smile and I cave. 

She steers me out the door and gives a little wave before shutting it behind me. Sighing, I do as instructed and steer my dark thoughts towards Toussaint and how I’m going to get him to keep his trap shut on this case. 

The stupid jerk has as much sensitivity as a fly. I turn right and into the flow of traffic and wonder if I’d get in trouble if I put a muzzle on him.   


* * *

  


Ann clicks away on one of the keyboards of one of the computers that have taken up residence in my living room. Jill is opening the door for John and I’m clutching my cup coffee, wondering if it would be sacrilege to make an altar to the holy coffee bean or not. 

“Jill,” John says entering the living room, “it’s good to see you kiddo.” I look up from my cup and smile at him. 

He’s really not a bad guy. From our interaction, he actually seems pretty cool and I can see why Ann likes working with him. If Dan were less of a stickler, they’d be an awful lot alike...well except for the whole hitting on me thing. 

I set my cup down, stand and offer the man my hand in greeting. “Morning, John.” 

He smiles brightly at me. “Nora it’s good to see you again looking as beautiful as I remember.” 

“Do you flirt with everything that has two legs?” Ann snips from her seat. 

I glance at her managing to keep the blush from my cheeks. The tips of John’s ears tint pink. 

His face sours briefly and then he winks at me. “I don’t flirt with everything that has two legs, just the ones that I need to get on the good side of.” 

Ann finally cracks a smile and says, “Take a seat, boss. We’ve got some ground to cover for today.” 

“Uh, guys,” Jill says from the doorway, “I’m going to let you three work. Nora, call your partner. John, I will talk to you soon. We need to talk about you interrupting my vacation with my wife. Ann,” she looks pointedly at her wife, “I love you and all of you be safe.” With the last bit of mothering, she’s out the front door and off to parts unknown. My guess is a coffee shop for some quiet time with that script that she’s been reading. 

Apparently her manager thinks that putting her into movies would be good for her. I don’t think Jill’s sold on the idea. I know Ann isn’t. 

“How was Boston and Houston?” he asks taking a seat next to me on the couch. 

I stand and ask, “You want anything to drink?” 

He shakes his head. “I’ve had my requisite three cups for the morning and I’m not due for the next three until noon.” 

“Ann?” I direct my attention her way. 

She doesn’t look up, but shakes her head in answer. I sit back down and Ann says, “Boston was a bust.” She looks up and levels a glare at John. 

He sinks back into the couch. “Houston?” he asks hopefully. 

It’s then that her face breaks into a grin. “The only thing different in Houston was that we got a positive I.D. on one of our own.” 

“What do you mean one of our own?” John leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. 

“The rouge isn’t A.T.F.,” I fill in. “He’s F.B.I.” 

“No shit?” John’s eyebrows are in his hairline and Ann scowls. To say that she was displeased with the information would be putting it mildly. She cussed a storm from the Bureau to the airport and most of the flight. 

“Yeah, Reagan Poviyemo fingered Jack Beckwith as the agent that worked with him and his team. Beckwith disappeared the day after the raid and when Poviyemo followed up on it, he was told to drop it,” I fill in. 

“What have you been able to pull on Beckwith?” he asks standing and pacing the length of my small living room. 

“So far, not a lot. His files are blocked through standard measures. I haven’t tried using our override codes,” Ann answers. 

“Why not?” he stops and puts his hands on his hips, pushing his jacket back to reveal a small red stain, a stain that looks like blood on his right flank. 

“We know it gets tagged and sometimes it gets pinged to the wrong party. I’d rather fly as much under the radar as possible right now.” Ann’s fingers click away and the one large monitor that rests on top of my mantle lights up, displaying Beckwith’s personnel file. 

“If you use the regular connection and servers, yes it does and will because of the security measures. If you go through the N.S.A., like you should, nothing gets leaked.” John’s lips purse and he eyes the photo of Beckwith. “Go through the N.S.A. and find out which division he works for really. I’ll go through the top. You ladies can come from underneath.” 

I look at my watch and my stomach tightens. The drop’s today and we still don’t have enough to do anything with. Our first solid lead and Ann and I have come up a day late and a dollar short. 

Shit. 

John must be thinking the same thing as he says, “The fucked up part in this is that we’re still going to have to go through with the drop. I’m going to need you two at the scene.” 

Ann and I exchange glances. We already expected this. 

“So,” Ann drawls, “Nora and I are going to make some smoke signals, draw Beckwith out and take him down with the Sungs?” 

John shakes his head. “I want you two to try and mitigate the collateral damage.” He finally drops his hands from his waste and takes to pacing again. “Let’s get over the idea that people won’t die, assume they will and find a way to make this be the last time.” 

“Uh,” I start, “why can’t we stop it before the bust?” 

Ann’s face sours, but she says, “We should.” 

John looks at her and that alone causes an audible clack of her teeth as she shuts her mouth. He then turns his gaze to me. Folding his arms across his chest, the look he gives is reminiscent of what you’d give to a dog that was being stupid. 

Am I missing something? 

I do a quick inventory of what we know thus far. The obvious smacks me upside the head. Among the other commonalities, there has been one other constant that we’ve just ignored. John obviously hasn’t. 

Damn it. 

He must see the dawning of recognition in my eyes. Before turning to Ann, he winks at me and I continue to chew on my bottom lip. 

“We can’t. We need this drop to go like all the others,” John’s voice is soft and resigned. “Do you know why?” 

Ann looks to me and I tip my chin, letting her know I get it. She doesn’t. 

“So what am I not seeing?” she asks her boss. 

“We’ve identified the agent responsible for all of this. Who’s giving the agent the orders? We know how the Bureau works, Ann. You can’t go to lunch without a directive in most of the departments. Who’s pushing Beckwith’s buttons?” John turns to me and smirks. “Nora was right to ask who asked me to ask you to step into this investigation. We really should have started there.” 

“So we’re bait then?” Ann asks, not looking too pleased. 

I’m not either. 

The director runs his left hand through his hair and nods. “It’s a win for everyone. We draw Beckwith into the fight, capture the Sungs and follow the missing guns. With a little bit of luck, elbow grease and solid manipulation, Beckwith will lead us to his boss.” 

Her lips purse as she scowls at her boss. “I hate being bait. Do we remember the last time I was bait?” 

I raise an eyebrow in question and she gives me a look that says we’ll discuss this later. 

“Yes,” John nearly whines, flopping back into the couch and looking at me. “She ended up on a boat headed for the western coast of Africa. It took us three days to track the boat in international waters and then do a full on raid with the help of the U.S. Navy.” 

How come this is the first time I’m hearing about it? Ann would have told me about this… 

At least, I think she would. After meeting John and hearing some of the conversation, I can’t be sure of that anymore. 

“Does Jill know?” I feel the need to ask. 

Ann nods. “She wasn’t really happy about it.” 

“Yeah,” John agrees. He points to a faint line above the right side of his upper lip. Barely noticeable until he sticks his tongue behind it and pushes it out. “That’s courtesy of Missus Flemming herself. She didn’t like the downward turn our trap took when Ann went missing.” 

I wince. The jagged line looks like it hurt when it was fresh. “She smacked you?” 

Ann snorts. John rubs his upper lip. “No, she decked me. Then, in front a group of F.B.I. agents and a small group of Navy Seals, told me that if I didn’t get her wife back, she’d gut me herself.” The man’s head swivels to Ann and he amends, “By the way, just so we’re clear on everything, if you’re ever in a fight with Jill, I’m on her side.” 

I smile and Ann laughs. “You scared of my wife?” Ann asks around the laughter. 

John nods. “I’ve been to too many countries to name, with time spent in at least a dozen of said countries being tortured by some of the best the world has to offer. None of them were as scary as Jill when she found out you’d been taken.” 

Ann shrugs. “She’s crazy like that.”   


* * *

  


I shuffle behind Toussaint as we emerge from Dan’s office. My head is pounding and I don’t think I’ve ever ground my teeth as much as I have the past half hour as we were getting our asses handed to us. 

A thorough chewing out all because the _salaud_ in front of me. 

It wasn’t bad enough that Toussaint showed up at the hospital with a hickey the size of a baseball on his neck nor was it even as bad as his lack of compassion or hell even empathy when questioning the victim and her sorority sisters who’ve not left her side. 

No, that wasn’t as bad as sitting outside Bethany Griffith’s room with Toussaint when Johanna Griffith showed and Toussaint in all his glory propositioned the senator outside of her victimized daughters hospital room. 

That was the worst of it. That and watching a mortified Missus Griffith smack Toussaint across the face. Actually, come to think about it, that’s been the best part of my day so far. I wonder if Johanna, after the damage control I did, would be willing do to do a repeat performance for me? 

Probably not, considering Dan’s pulled us from the case. Since Toussaint and I are partnered together and he was yanked, that means I was too. The upside of that is that Benny and Dominic picked the case up and they’re a good team. 

I drop into my desk chair and look at my phone, turn it on and wait for the display to let me know if I’ve missed any phone calls. It takes a minute or two but when I flip it open, the display shows three missed calls, all from Nora. There’s also a lone voicemail. 

I dial my voicemail and wait for it to pick up. When it does and once the automated voice let’s me know that I do indeed have one new message, I relax just a little at Nora’s voice, “Nik, it’s me. I, uh, Christ, I’m no good at this and I thought I was going to talk to you, but…but you’re not picking up so, here it goes. I’m sorry. I love you and I’m sorry. Please call me back when you have a minute. We need to talk.” 

I know we do sugga. I sigh and end the call after making sure to save the message. I look around at the empty squad room. Only one or two Uni’s are around and they’re typing away at reports no doubt. Toussaint is involved in his computer screen as well. I pick up my office phone and dial Nora’s number. 

Eight rings and her voicemail picks up. Shit. I leave a brief message and convey my annoyance of the game of phone tag that we’ve begun and hang up. 

“Nikki!” Dan shouts as he comes barreling out of his office. “Let’s go.” 

I barely have time to react before he’s next to me, pulling me out of my chair and shoving me towards the doors. Something tells me to not ask any questions, as we race down the steps. It doesn’t really register that we’ve made it outside and I’ve steered us towards June Lee until I’m following Dan’s directions to get us to the Lakeside Airport the quickest way possible. 

The station house on a good day is about twenty minutes from the place. Today, I make it in under ten as Dan fills me in on what happened. The only words I truly caught were Nora and explosion. 

We don’t slow down at the checkpoint as I’ve got the emergency lights on June Lee going and Dan’s holding out his badge for the officers to view through the windshield. Black smoke billows in the distance. I can see the flames engulfing one of the hangers as firefighters struggle to contain the flames. 

I come to a screeching halt, hopping out of the car as I slam it into park. June protests at the treatment. Dan’s matching my stride as we come up on the scene in its entirety. 

There are five men cuffed and covered in soot sitting in front of a cruiser. Three officers are standing watch over them while three of the arrestees are arguing with each other in I think Chinese. 

“Where’s Detective Delaney?” Dan asks one of the Uni’s. 

The kid, no older than twenty-two, scratches the back of his neck and then points to a small cluster of ambulances about a hundred yards to our left. My stomach drops. 

Dan and I take off at a sprint. It seems like it takes forever, that the destination was getting farther away, but it’s not. I know that. I just can’t…this isn’t happening. 

We round the back of the first bus and come to a halt. Nora and Ann are sitting on the back of the third ambulance. Wrapped in emergency blankets, they aren’t talking just surveying the burning hangar before them. 

“Nora!” Dan calls. 

I can’t say anything, I can’t trust my voice right now. 

They give no indication that they heard us, but Nora does notice us as we stride up to them. 

It doesn’t look like she’s been injured. There’s dirt and ash smudges on her face and neck. Some soot in her hair. Other than that she appears okay. Ann is in a similar condition. 

Nora’s face breaks into a lazy smile as we stop in front of the two women. My hands clench at my sides. I want nothing more than to pull her to me, wrap my arms around her and check her over to truly ensure that she isn’t injured. 

“What are you two doing here?” she yells. 

“Nora, we can hear just fine,” Dan hisses. 

Ann shoulders Nora and tugs on her earlobe. Nora’s face shows understanding at what Ann was trying to communicate and she yells again, “Can’t hear real well. The explosion sorta messed with our hearing. That and the raging headache we have.” 

Ann nods in agreement. 

I watch the looks that pass between them. A series of questions and answers all in a look shared between two people that depended on each other to stay alive. My lieutenant’s hands go to his hips as they eye each other. Somehow satisfied, his shoulders slump as he rushes over to my lover, smothering her in a hug. I notice Nora stiffen in the embrace, coughing uncomfortably as her ex-partner releases her. 

“I’m going to go find the one’s in charge,” he says hooking his thumb over his shoulder as he announces his intent a little louder than he normally would. 

We watch him scurry off and I finally step into Nora’s personal space. Ann looks between the two of us and slowly she gets up. She moves stiffly away as she motions for us to talk. 

Nora watches her retreat and then turns her gaze to me. I search her eyes, trying to discern the swirl of emotions that I see. 

I come up with nothing. Her usually clear, green eyes are unreadable. What I would like to see, some sort of apology and reassurance is absent. Nothing’s there to stop the thudding of my heart. Haltingly, I close the gap between us and gently wrap my arms around her. 

I bury my nose in her hair, ignoring the smells that cling there. I don’t care if she smells like a bonfire and burnt flesh. Underneath the cloying bouquet, I recognize her unique scent and take comfort in that. 

“Detective,” a male voice sounds behind us and we break apart. 

I turn and face the man, an E.M.T., as he says, “We need to take Detective Delaney and Agent Flemming over to the hospital to get them checked out.” 

Nora shakes her head and points to me, saying, “I’m going home.” 

The E.M.T. shakes his head and says, “I’m under strict orders from Director Malone and Lieutenant Harney to take both of you in for an examination.” 

Ann appears behind him and shrugs. She points to the bus and moves forward. “No sense fighting Delaney.” 

I see Dan striding our way as he’s being barked at by two different agents. I recognize Diea from around the precinct, but the other I’m not very familiar with. 

As they get closer, Diea turns her attention to Ann and Nora standing next to me. Diea points to them and bellows, “You!” She stalks up to my lover and friend. Dan trying unsuccessfully to put himself between Diea and the other two women. 

“Just what in the fuck were you two trying to prove!” Meagan spits. 

“Now, Agent Diea,” Dan tries, but he’s shoved out of the way as Diea moves him aside and gets in Nora’s face. 

“You stupid fucking…” that’s as far as the A.T.F. agent gets. 

My fist shoots out, connecting with her jaw. It’s sudden, unexpected and fierce. I watch, mildly shocked as the woman spins around and crumples to the pavement. 

The other agent with Dan is the first to react as he lunges for me. Nora, intercepts him and knees him in the groin, letting him drop to the blacktop in a fetal position. 

Dan and Ann stand there shocked, staring at the two of us as the ramifications of what just transpired are written across Dan’s face. 

“Do you two want to have a job!” our boss rages. He drops down to his knees, turning Diea over to assess the damage. 

The other agent lies on his side, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes. 

We look at Dan and he shakes his head. “Get to the hospital. We’ll discuss this later.” Nora nods mutely and I help her into the bus. Ann follows suit as I stand below them. 

“I’ll follow you,” I say. They nod and I close the back of the ambulance doors as another set of E.M.T.s come to take care of Diea and the other agent. 

Dan stands there watching the bus retreat and turns to me. “Go,” is all he says, the muscles in his jaw quivering.   


* * *

  


My legs swing off the edge of the hospital bed as I try to listen to the doctor itemizing my injuries. Concussion, a few lacerations, limited auditory capacity those are the bumps and bruises, nothing major. I do have a sneaking suspicion that I will be insanely sore tomorrow when I wake up. 

“Also, I’ll be giving each of you a short supply of muscle relaxers. They will help with the pain more than any Vicodin or Percocet that I could prescribe. Take it easy the next few days and come in if anything seems to get worse.” The doctor turns to the nurse and scribbles on the chart. “I’ll have your release papers for you to sign shortly.” With that the man is out the door. His nurse following behind him. 

I look around the room. Ann’s seated next to me and Jill and Nikki are sitting against the far wall. They wait as the door clicks shut before moving forward. Nikki and Jill’s positions mirror each other as Nikki settles between my thighs and Jill settles between Ann’s. The married couple collapses in on each other and Nikki’s arms stretch out to rest on my shoulders. 

I finally allow myself to relax as our foreheads rest together. 

“How are you?” Nikki asks, breaking the silence. 

I shrug. “I’m…actually for being blown up, I feel okay,” I snort. 

She pulls back, her face darkening. “That’s not funny Nora. You could have died.” 

I rest my hands on her hips and pull her tighter against me. It’s risky given our location, but the need to feel her outweighs my need for caution. “I’m fine. A little shaken up, but I’m fine Nikki.” 

Her lips turn south and I reach up to try and smooth away some of the wrinkles that are creasing her brow. She shakes me off and huffs, “It’s not something to joke about. I can’t get there right now. I’m still trying to get over the fact that you nearly died.” 

Nikki steps away from me and I catch her right hand with my left. She hisses in pain and I take a softer grip. Her knuckles are puffy, red on the peaks and a solid bluish purple between the joints. The skin on my debutante’s middle knuckle is split and bleeding. 

I still can’t believe she went and cold cocked an A.T.F. agent. I’m not sure what Diea was ranting about, truthfully I don’t give a shit. Now seeing Nikki knock her out was interesting. Still can’t believe Omar Priddy came after Nikki though. Did he honestly believe I’d let anyone lay a hand on my partner. 

Prick. Serves him right. 

“We should get that cleaned up, Nik,” I say pulling her closer and laying a soft kiss on the busted knuckle. I glance over at Jill and Ann. I smirk as I realize they really are in their own little world and Lee’s voice from years ago whispers in my ear, _“I was always the third wheel, Nora. When they were together, the world could have been ending and the only thing they’d see would be each other.”_

A tightness grips me and I have to wonder if Nikki and I are that way. 

“Come on,” I say exchanging positions with her. She sits down, allowing me to care for her. My body protests the movement, but I ignore the pain and take liberties with the supplies in the room. 

I snag some cotton balls, a few band-aids and a bottle of antiseptic before settling on a stool and moving between Nikki’s parted thighs. I take her injured hand and lay it on her thigh, splaying the fingers out, remove the lid on the bottle, dip a cotton ball in it and move it over the battered knuckles. 

My girls doesn’t offer a hiss of pain, but I know it stings, they used this on me today. Gently I clean the torn skin and blow on it to dry the solution before covering the knuckles up with a few band-aids. I kiss each knuckle and look up to meet her gaze. 

I wonder if she knows how sorry I am for the words I said to her Friday night. Does she understand the apology? 

It’s then that the door swings open, breaking our spell. John comes bustling in and then stops, looking at the four of us. A smile, bright and wide takes over his face. “Don’t stop on my account ladies. If you still need a minute to collect yourself, I’ll wait.” 

Ann scowls. Jill giggles. I roll my eyes and Nikki asks, “Who are you?” 

“John Malone,” he extends his hand in greeting and gently shakes Nikki’s being mindful of the bandages. 

“Nikki,” Ann starts, “this is my boss.” 

Recognition dawns on my lover’s face as her manners take over, “Oh, it’s good to meet you.” 

“You as well,” he says, sitting down on another stool. “Ann and Jill have said some good things about you.” 

Nikki’s eyes skirt between the two women whose proximity has only altered in the amount of space that is not between their bodies. John picks up on Nikki’s confusion and I smile at her, grabbing her hand. Her eyes grow large and I chuckle. That hurts. 

“Please continue, I just wanted to fill Nora and Ann in on the latest developments,” John says, resting his hands in his lap. “I’d probably be just as touchy if it were my partner.” 

I cough and say, “You were here about developments?” 

“Right,” he bobs his head and presses on, “First the easy stuff. Beckwith is in custody. I have two federal agents en route to pick up his boss, David Amos, senior agent of the D.C.’s organized crime division. Amos has another two agents in the field doing what Beckwith was doing. They are being picked up as well.” 

“Evidence?” I croak, not releasing Nikki’s hand. 

“Enough that our A.U.S.A., is singing yours and Ann’s praises.” His eyes darken as he looks Ann over and then me. I notice him track the bruising and cuts on my head and neck. “I…thanks both of you for doing what you did.” 

“Part of the job, John. You know that,” Ann offers. 

“Maybe, but both of you went in there knowing the outcome. Not many people walk into a building knowing that it’s gonna explode,” he says softly. “You two did good work today.” 

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Nikki spits. She drops my hand and moves to the far side of the room. 

John looks between us confused. 

“You knew?” Nikki asks, directing her question at me. “You knew the hangar was going to explode?” 

Shit. 

Shit. 

Fuck. 

“They, uh,” John stumbles over his words, “Detective it was unfortunately a necessi…” 

“Nora, answer the question?” she interrupts. 

I meet her gaze and nod. “It was the only way Nikki. These people needed to be stopped.” 

Her face falls, tears leak from the corner of her eyes and she wraps her arms around her midsection. “Why would you…why didn’t…” 

“Nik,” I say standing, trying to move towards her. “It wasn’t as dangerous as it…” 

She stops my words by a shake of her head. “You knew and did it anyhow. Nora that’s enough and I…” Her eyes and arms droop towards the floor. “I just can’t do this Nora…” She looks up and all I see in her eyes is heartbreak. “I can’t do this. I just…I need a break.” 

With that she bolts from the room, leaving us in a stunned silence. 

What just happened? 

A stool is slid under me as my knees give out. John meets my eyes and silently asks if I’m okay. 

I shake my head, unsure of how to answer. 

Did Nikki just break up with me? 


End file.
